


Be Curious

by Ainu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, Drinking, Homophobia, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, Keith and Shiro are Siblings, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance is very confused, Lots of awkwardness, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Shiro (Voltron), They play minecraft a little such nerds, alternate title: Lance's very awkward and very unfortunate bi-awakening, everyones is +21 except Pidge who is 20, gay sex talk, probably, there is gonna be very super awkward sex, very inappropriate questions at public places
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9470867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ainu/pseuds/Ainu
Summary: When Lance left his room fifteen minutes ago he was a man with a plan; right now he is a man with a malfunctioning brain and a very incomplete plan."KEITH," Lance screams again, panicking and feeling the sweat dripping down his back. "YOU'RE GAY! HAVE SEX WITH ME!"The silence that falls over them is enough to shut the echoes of Lance's words in the big room. The sound of a shower running stops, the gasp of Keith's gym buddy dies in his mouth and the whole universe stops to look at them."What the actual fuck," Keith whispers zipping up his jeans and looking at the guy next to him he says to him, "I don't know him."-----In which Lance realizes that girls aren't the only thing he's interested in and he ends up in the most awkward position he has been in his life.





	1. The Party

**Author's Note:**

> a very loud thank you to [accordingtomyresearch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/accordingtomyresearch/pseuds/anonymouschupacabra) for being my beta and my editor and my friend.
> 
> This story is awkward on purpose, it's completely self indulgent and I regret nothing. There is gonna be sex, but a very awkward and cute one, nothing steamy and sexy lmao.

Curious. That's it. He's just... being curious and there's nothing bad about it, right? He just asks them out out of curiosity, okay? Girls are nice and all sweet voices and melodic laughter, hair softer than the fur Hunk's cat has behind her ears. That thing they do with their hips when they walk, the lovely way they bite their lip when they flirt, those long eyelashes... and boobs, oh god, boobs! Big ones or small ones. Yeah, girls are nice. Lance just loves them, all shapes, sizes and colours.

The first time he kissed a girl he thought that he could live just off kissing. Forget about food and sleep; kissing a girl is all you need to live a good, long and healthy life with butterflies, happiness and rainbows. Or at least it was what he had time to thought before Cynthia Cunningham's hand slapped the rainbows out of his brains in the middle of the school playground at the tender age of 9. Given the circumstances, any other kid would have given up love for the rest of the eternity. But not Lance. Not even close. He was, and still is, one of those rare humans that grows stronger in adversity. The nine-year-old Lance had just stranded there, wide eyes, even wider smile, and a thumping heart yelling 'wow' in Morse code.

He didn't give up after that though. His attempts at kissing as he was growing up increased in quality and, more important, quantity as his scrawny and disproportionate teenage body turned into a more or less good looking young man. He sure had his fair amount of Seven Minutes in Heaven, Spin the Bottle, and Suck and Blow, to be able to say that he, Lance, is an expert in kissing girls.

So, yeah. Girls. Nice.

Lance is just curious about Keith.

With a slam, Lance's head slips between his hands and his forehead hits the dark picnic table where he has been resting his poor, battered, pounding head. Even the warm breeze of Spring manages to send a shiver up his spine and the sweet smell of the blossoming flowers makes his stomach cry in pain again after all the puking earlier in the morning.

They're sitting outside the library building, on one of the picnic tables near the plaza where the food trucks occasionally park to sell their goods to the famished students on exam season, waiting for the rest of the group to arrive. And Keith, who is right there, face buried in a notebook and writing something furiously down, is ignoring him. Uh, rude.

Very, very slowly, Lance lifts his gaze, blinking lazily at the boy in front of him, who hadn’t moved a bit at the noise of a head smashing wood, and stays like that, miserably groaning for a few minutes until the other boy snaps.

"What!"

"Nothing," Lance says slurring the word throughout his lips trying to unsuccessfully lift his head again. How Keith manages to look so fresh and not dead after last night?

"You look like shit," Keith says before dropping his face in his notebook again.

"And you don't. How is that you don't look like shit right now?" Lance asks, finally dragging up the heavy weight hanging from his neck.

"Because I actually listened when Shiro told us before the party to not drink a lot— Lance, it's not like you didn't know that we were going to meet today..."

"I know," Lance whines covering his mouth to hide a pout.

"I swear to god, Lance, if you barf here..." Keith threatens leaning back on his seat.

The party, ugh, Shiro's damn birthday party. Of course Lance had listened to Shiro, who wouldn't when he had gathered them all in the kitchen for a pre party scolding?

"I know that you all are excited for this party— yes, Lance, I know that you're all 21 one now—"

"I'm still 20," Pidge clarified.

"Okay, no drinks for you." Shiro pointed to the girl. "But the rest of you, please, please, be responsible, no more than two drinks. Don't do anything you would regret in the morning," Shiro begged to Hunk, Keith, and Lance, who was trembling with anticipation. "We have a team meeting tomorrow and whoever misses it—yes, Lance, I'm looking at you— whoever misses it... is out." Shiro softened his expression before saying, "okay! Now have fun, it's my birthday!"

Yelling a loud "yay", Pidge, Hunk and Lance stormed out of the kitchen as the doorbell rang, announcing the first group of people arriving to the party.

"Keith, a word?" Shiro stopped his brother by the arm before he could leave the room. Lance eyed them from the living room, watching them talk, only looking away when the two brothers turned their heads to him. Shivering, he felt like he was the main topic of their conversation.

By far, that wasn't Lance first party so instead of feeling anxious like Hunk, he felt like home. With a red plastic cup in one hand and using the other to high five and pat every single shoulder in the house, Lance danced, laughed, jumped as if there were no tomorrow. After an hour, Lance had already met all the people in the party; it wasn't a big event, Shiro had only invited a few of his friends. He recognized some of Shiro's classmates, nerds from the math club, a couple of girls from his own classes and... wow, wasn't that—?

From the other side of the room, a gorgeous blonde smiled at him, and if Lance weren't sipping his third cup of the night he could have swear that she even winked at him.

"—And then, Pidge made it explode in the last minute! Hahaha, man you should have saw it."

"Wait, wait. I'm sorry Hunk, buddy, I know you're telling me something hilarious, but... duty is calling," Lance cut his friend, patting both of his shoulders.

"Duty? What... Oh." Hunk didn't need to turn around completely to see what Lance was talking about. "Isn't that Nyma? The Nyma that had already rejected you two times in the past month?"

"Hunk, you know me, go big or go home..."

"Dude, no. Shiro, told us to—"

"Yeah, yeah, and Shiro told us to have fun too and I can assure you that this is nothing I'll regret in the morning." Lance patted Hunk's shoulders one more time before shooting him a mischievous grin and launch himself towards the kitchen to go grab a couple of drinks for his soon-to-be more-than-a-friend and himself.

"Try not to get kick in the balls like the last time!" Hunk called after him a little too loud leaving Lance's pride severely wounded.

Still wincing at Hunk's words, Lance entered into the kitchen, bumping into the doorframe and stumbling through it. Wow, sure he was drunk. Huh. He laughed to himself, Shiro was gonna get so mad at him. Thankfully, he still has his motor skills under control so he could pour a couple of beers into the red cups without incidents.

"What are you doing?" The sudden voice, too close and too loud, made Lance spill one of the drinks over the counter when he jumped and shrieked.

"Keith, fuck..." Lance cursed as he started turning to look for something to clean up the mess.

"You've already had 3 drinks, what are you doing coming for more?" Keith followed Lance around the kitchen with a frown on his face. "There, bottom drawer," he pointed.

"You too? You sound like your brother," Lance whined, cleaning the counter with the mop he found inside the drawer. "He told you to keep an eye on me, didn't he? I knew it! I could feel someone staring at me all the time, like a creepy stalker, like a—"

"Are you drunk?" Keith ignored him completely.

"...No." Lance kept drying the rest of the spilled beer in silence, Keith watching him with unreadable eyes. When Lance finally threw the drenched mop away, he set his hands on his hips and sighed. "Look, I swear I won't miss the meeting tomorrow, if that's what worries you, but, honestly? It's just another Team Build Battle match, and who plays minecraft these days anyway? I'll tell you who, 12 years old, that is who. And it's just a college league—"

"Lance, you're rambling," Keith said.

"—so who cares? I think it's because it's Shiro's last season that everyone is so invested—"

"You're drunk rumbling."

"—and sure, I'll miss Shiro when he graduate, but he will keep living here with you and Matt, right? It's not like... Like we're going to lose him because he's going to fight in an intergalactic war and he isn't going to come back—" Lance kept rumbling.

For a second, Keith opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes darted from Lance's face to something behind the drunk boy, wrinkling his nose at the sight.

"—so chill, man, have a beer and... what are you looking at?" Lance attempted to turn around to see what got Keith's attention when Keith’s rough fingers grabbed him by the chin.

"No!" Keith exclaimed, retracting his hand immediately. "Uh, I mean, yes. You're right." Lance raised an eyebrow at him, rubbing the spot where Keith's fingers had been a second ago. "We... we should chill. Oh, here," Keith added turning around and crouching to grab something under the sink. One second later he showed Lance an unopened bottle of green absinthe. "I think Shiro forgot about this a while ago, we could open it and he won't know."

Lance's eyes went wide and sparkles shone in his blue eyes. "Hell yes! Keith, I didn't know you were such a bad boy. Okay let's do this!"

The small rational part of his brain was screaming at him how much of a bad idea all this was, but, as always, his impulsiveness was screaming 'do it, do it do it' even harder. He wouldn't be Lance if, in the end, he wouldn't had listened to the dumb part of his brain, because consequences are future Lance's problems.

One shot turned into three very quickly, and then it came the fourth and the fifth. Keith started rumbling and laughing after the second shot, which left Lance astonished with an incredulous grin on his face. They talked about their classes, like when professor Coran set the slide projector on fire and the whole class got an A in his class for keeping their mouths shut. Or when Hunk found a guinea pig in one of the bathrooms of the third floor of the dorms. And when Pidge almost got arrested after refusing to disarm the robot she built for her robotics class after the teacher had called it a ' _dangerous monstrosity_ '.

They laughed when Keith broke his shot glass trying to refill it, they laughed when Pidge joined them for a short while, and laughed even harder when she ran away with the promise of not telling Shiro how wasted they both were when Lance started flirting with her.

This wasn't something Lance was expecting when Shiro told him about the party, all he had wanted was a chance to push some thoughts away, to have some fun in his stressed life of a college student. Just... just not thinking for a few hours. Keith was, by all means, a very nice distraction from Lance's problems. Usually, Keith was a silent companion, too frowny and serious for Lance to find in him a true friend. He had always thought that Keith wanted him at an arm’s distance and as quiet as possible— so seeing this new face of Keith was kind of weirdly pleasant.

Grateful for his new found partner in crime, Lance threw one arm around Keith's shoulders and said to him "Keith, buddy, I didn't know you were this fun. I think I'm going to name you my new second best friend ever."

"I'm always fun, jerk," Keith replied angrily, he didn't tried to shake Lance's arm off his shoulders though.

"No, you—" Lance burped behind his hand before continuing, "—aren't."

Inexplicably, Keith found this extremely hilarious and started rocking with laughter, losing balance and making them both fall on the kitchen floor.

Completely sprawled and breathless from laughing is how Hunk found them.

"Oh, no, Shiro is going to be so mad," Hunk muttered. He stepped inside and helped both boys on the floor stand up again. "Keith, you supposed to be watching him, not joining him in his alcoholic rampage."

Both boys looked at each other and burst into laughter again, arms around shoulders, as they leaned in each other trying to not fall again.

"Hey." A soft voice interrupted them and Lance turned his head towards the kitchen door a little too fast. Oh. Damn, he completely forgot about Nyma and why he first went into the kitchen.

"Hey," Lance said softly, letting go of Keith's embrace, who fell to the ground after loosing Lance's support.

She smiled at him and licked her lips before saying, "Hi Lance, do you have a minute to talk?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Just wait a second," Lance said grinning, turning to Hunk who was helping Keith up again. "Dude, I gotta go. I think this time I'm getting laid for sure."

"Gross," Keith said returning to his usual frowny self.

"Keith, again, chillax. I promise I won't use your room," Lance smirked from the doorframe. "Bye losers."

"No! Don't use anyone's room— and he's gone."

As it turned out, little Nyma wanted to talk. The second Lance stepped out of the kitchen he was pulled away into the small crowd in the living room.

"Lance," Nyma said in a sensual voice barely audible because of the loud music playing on the big speakers on the other side of the room, "who was that?"

"Who?" Lance asked weakly. She was so close to him, his lips almost touching his ear.

"The guy in the kitchen, the one you were hugging?"

"Ah- oh, Keith, he's a... friend... Shiro's brother, actually... Why?" Lance answered a little confused.

Biting her lip, Nyma just nodded. Then she held Lance's hand and together they made a beeline, dodging the people standing, towards the stairs that leaded to the first floor. Lance turned his head grinning, still not believing his luck, and saw Hunk and Keith standing in the kitchen, talking, both of them frowning as Hunk patted Keith's shaking shoulders. If Lance had not been drunk he could have read the situation. If Lance had not been that drunk he could have seen Shiro's disappointed look from the couch. If he had not been in that drunken limbo in which reality is so distorted people only see what their wasted brain wanted them to see, then Lance would have seen Pidge shaking her head when he mouthed a 'holy shit' at her when the couple walked past her side.

In retrospective, if Lance wouldn't had wanted to selfishly try to forget his problems for a few hours using Shiro's birthday party as an excuse, none of this would had happened.

They shared their first kiss on the first step of the stairs; Nyma pulled Lance by his navy blue button up and their lips met roughly. Without detaching their from each other, they made their way up, tripping and giggling until Lance's back hit a door. After that, Lance memory starts to falter; did he lose his shirt before or after they opened the door? Did they kicked off their shoes when they fell onto the unmade bed or when they decided that pants weren't necessary anymore? Wet kisses, hands roaming everywhere and skin, warm soft skin. Lance let himself go with whatever was happening because at that moment, that was the best thing, the only thing in that party that had taken his mind out of his problems... Except maybe Keith and his stupid absinthe, Keith and his stupid laugh and— A hand touched his bare stomach, ticking around his navel before going down and down, and he didn't need to keep thinking anymore.

Unfortunately and very much to his regret Lance only remembers two things about that night after they went inside that room. One, that Nyma's punch hurt way more than Cynthia Cunningham's and that he really, really shouldn't have moaned Keith's name in another's person mouth when they are about to have sex.

So, right now, sitting in front of Keith, hiding his face in his arms, Lance couldn’t feel more mortified. It had to be all that alcohol, right? It has to, there's no other explanation. Lance is the paradigm of heterosexuality, he likes girls, he... He just can not be attracted to another guy, above all, not if that guy is Keith, Keith, who is angry at him all the time, who doesn't laugh at his jokes, who is so uppity that even his brother has to take him down the pedestal he think he's in once in a while. Another loud groan escapes from his throat, muffled by his arms.

"I hope this serves you as a lesson," Keith says. He's sitting in silence with his arms crossed over the table and his face doesn't look as angry as Lance is expecting when he looks at him again. "I can't believe what you did last night."

Lance freezes. Wait, what? Keith knows? Keith knows about the most embarrassing moment in his life when he barely remembers why or how it happened? Keith knows about the way he fucking moaned his name while being in his birthday suit, hard as a rock, and between a gorgeous girl's legs? Lance opens his mouth but not a sound comes out of it, his brain screaming in agony trying not to set all its systems to self destruction.

"I- I can- I can explain," Lance stutters pitifully.

"I don't need an explanation, I need you to pay me for the new sheets I have to buy," Keith deadpans.

"I- what?" Lance cocks his head. He has no idea what Keith is talking about.

"Oh my god, are you serious?" Keith uncrosses his arms and a small incredulous smile appears in his face. "Dude, you puked all over my bed! You promised you wouldn't use my bedroom!"

"I'm sorry?" Lance says still not sure what the other is talking about.

And just like that, sitting on a mostly broken and kinda disgustingly dirty picnic table, with students walking around them minding their own business, under the lukewarm sun of Spring, suffering one of the worst hangovers of his life, jaw still aching after the punch, wearing wrinkled clothes and without any warning, Lance witnesses what he later would define the most amazing miracle of his life.

Keith laughs.

Okay, sure, he laughs at him. He laughs so hard at him that Keith even points at his nose with one of his pale fingers as his eyes shut at the corners. The thing is that he actually laughs; a genuine, not drunk, pure, bright, laugh and Lance can't believe it. And Lance is sure he has heard that laugh before, loud and a little hoarse, but never like this; like a siren's song pulling him towards the deadly rocks.

"Lance, you really don't remember a thing," he says panting. "Holy shit, Lance—"

"Ugh, shut up!" Lance hisses. "First, stop shouting, second, it's obvious I don't remember, so care to tell me what happened?"

"Okay, okay," Keith tries to hide a grin behind his hand. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Well, I remember you and your absinthe, thank you very much, by the way. And then I remember going with Nyma upstairs and... I remember getting into a room? I don't know, I think that's the last thing I remember from the party," Lance lies. "And then I woke up this morning to the alarm going off, I puked my soul into the toilet, put on some clothes on... and then I came here."

Keith's smile fades slowly as he listens to Lance's words. A shadow crosses his face and for a second Lance thinks that he really must know what happened last night, but as soon as it comes, it goes away and Keith's features turn serious again.

"We heard a scream upstairs so Shiro and I ran into my room just to find you naked, crying and mumbling something about someone called Cynthia? It was fucking bizarre. And before we could ask, Nyma stormed out of the room. She was pretty mad, what did you do to her?" Keith asked a little worried.

"Oh god, I don't know man," Lance lied looking at his hands, "I guess I fucked up."

"Then you cried even harder before barfing on my pillow."

"Ew."

"Yeah... After that, we got Hunk to get you dressed and Shiro drove you both to the dorm. You shouldn't do that again as funny as it was to watch you completely wasted it was also kinda scary," Keith says pressing his lips in a thin line, not smiling anymore.

"I'm sorry, ugh." They fall into an awkward silence. Keith plays with the hair at the back of his head, avoiding looking at Lance, who, completely embarrassed, tried to make himself smaller by curling on the table. He feels so mortified, so mad at himself, how could he be so stupid? Not only everyone saw him puke, oh god, what if they saw him _naked_ naked? What if they saw him naked naked with a _boner_? "Are you mad?" he whispers after a while when the silence becomes unbearable.

"What?"

"Are you mad at me because I used your room when I promised not to and because I threw up on your bed?" Lance asks again louder. Maybe a little too loud, he thinks, after seeing a few students turning to look at them. Keith opens his mouth to say something but he just stares at Lance blankly for another five seconds before shutting his mouth again. Lance swallows hard and blurts miserably, "because I'm going to pay for the sheets, I swear," waving his hands as he speaks.

When Keith doesn't answer Lance thinks, that's it, he's mad, this is the end of whatever they have, the end of this kinda, sort of weird friendship they have managed to build in the last two years. Keith sighs suddenly and grabs his backpack from the floor, digging for something inside it, throwing it at Lance, who doesn't catch it at first and has to retrieve it from the ground. Then he hands him a bottle of water too.

"Here," he says.

"What is this?" Lance asks confused looking and the small-cropped blister.

"Ibuprofen and water. Drink," Keith answers bluntly.

"Thank—"

"Look, you don't have to pay me anything. Just— just don't do that again. I was... worried. And if you want to hook up with a girl, do it where I can't see you..." Lance's eyes widen looking at Keith's hurt expression.

"Wha—"

"Lance! You're not dead!" A sudden pat on the back makes Lance jump on his seat and his head and stomach cry in agony. When he turns, Hunk and Pidge are standing behind him, looking fresh and well rested. When Lance turns again, Keith's poker face is back. Pidge sits by his side and grins at him mischievously and sing songs, "I saw your butt."

"And you liked what you saw?"

"Maybe if you wouldn't have barf like a sick fire hydrant right after."

"How are you feeling?" Hunk asks, sitting by Keith's side.

"Like crap."

"Good, because you deserve it."

Five minutes later Shiro arrives with a look full of disappointment for Lance and a bag full of new sheets for Keith. Tired of all the scolding, Lance drops his chin to his chest and listens quietly and meekly to Shiro's words. This is how it always works, Lance does something stupid, Lance gets furiously scolded by Shiro, some times even by Hunk, depending on how much he fucked things up, Lance regrets all his life choices, Lance behaves for a few weeks, and repeat. Trying to have a little more privacy, Shiro drags Lance gently towards the nearest picnic table, which looks even more disgusting than the one Keith chose to sit earlier, leaving Hunk, Pidge and Keith to gossip, most probably about them, behind.

"— and not only you were about to have unprotected sex on my baby brother's bed, you disobeyed me when I told you to behave." Shiro crosses his arms, standing in all his glory in front of Lance. "Lance," his voice softens and he uncrosses his arms to ruffle Lance hair, "you know better than anyone how dangerous what you did is. You— you promised you wouldn't do it again."

Once again, guilt hits Lance's chest. He has broken a lot of promises lately, and Shiro is the last person he wants to disappoint. Somehow, meeting Shiro on his first month of college saved him from his disastrous life choices, redirecting all his impulsiveness towards something more safe than wild parties; like Build Battle and Pidge's weird obsession with minecraft. Thanks to him Lance was introduced to the group that later will become his new home far away from his parents and siblings, that's why, feeling those gray eyes on him knowing that he fucked up again, Lance feels miserable. He hears footsteps behind him but he doesn't need to turn around to know who it is.

"I know, I'm sorry," Lance whispers locking his gaze on Shiro, whose eyes move towards Hunk shooting him a pointed look.

"Hey, hey. It's okay," Hunk chirps patting Lance's back, "you know we can talk whenever you want, right? Is it about... you know, your dad—?" Hunk adds lowering his voice.

"Shh. No, Nope. No. Shut it." Lance jumps and shoots both hands over Hunk's mouth. Man, he sure loves his best friend, but dam, Hunk needs to know when to shut the hell up. Looking around, Lance makes sure nobody has listened, though Shiro seems to want to say something, he keeps his mouth shut and frowns. "Don't we... have a meeting?"


	2. The creepy staring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> morriña is a galician term that refers to the feeling of yearning a person suffer when they are far away from the things they love, like their home, their culture, the familiar situations they are used to...
> 
> Lance has 3 siblings: Ramona (30), Toni (28), Lance (21) and Gabriela (16).

When Lance was twelve, for the first time of his life, he thought he had found his best friend forever, his BFF, his most bro friend between the bunch of friends he had managed to keep through his school years despite his antics and troublesome personality. They played together, they sleep at each other houses, they planned that prank at school with all those frogs that almost got them expelled, they signed each other casts when they suffered the sled accident. They, some times, when nobody was near them, held hands while talking and laughing, or just while sitting on the bus stop waiting for it to arrive in silence. Lance loved Bobby, he was sure of it, as sure as he knew he loved his parents. That's why, when he told his mama that he loved Bobby and she smiled because she was happy for Lance for having such a good best friend, he felt his chest swell with pride because, he had found his best friend, his most bro friend forever at the early age of twelve, because loving his best friend was the best thing had ever happened to Lance.

Of course, that was before Toni left. Before his brother left the house slamming the door, before all the screaming and shouting and before learning the meaning of the word 'fagot'.

After that, Lance didn't see Bobby again.

Years after that, when Lance thought that he wouldn't find another best friend forever, Shiro introduced him to Hunk. And Lance feels safe because he can say that he loves Hunk, he loves his hugs, his jokes, and his enthusiastic support. He feels safe because even if it's love what he's feeling, he knows it's not like Bobby's kind of love.

Walking from the picnic area to the library feels like the green mile for Lance. He can't keep his eyes off the back of Keith's head while he's walking and talking with his brother and Pidge about some emo shit, whatever, Lance can't hear them anyway, walking so far behind. Hunk is by his side and he can feel him shooting him side-glances.

"Ugh," Lance groans before admitting, "yes, Hunk, my dad is coming."

"Oh, good. I mean, not good, not good at all, but... when is he coming? Do you want me to be with you like the last time?" Hunk says slowing down his pace until he stops, Lance stopping with him before the stairs leading to the library doors.

Lance chest hurts in a good way looking at his friend, who is looking back at him with wary eyes. Shaking his head and grinning, Lance throws one arm around his friend, he doesn't know what the hell he has done to have someone like Hunk by his side; he doesn't deserve him.

"Nah, don't worry. I appreciate it, though. I think I can handle him this time," Lance says looking at the library doors closing after their friends who just stepped inside the building. It's his father kind of tradition to pay a visit to his kids in college every three months; Lance older sister Ramona suffered it, his brother Toni suffered it and he's sure that little Gabriela will suffer it too. His mama says that papa misses them so much that he needs to see them when they're away. She calls it _morriña_ . Lance calls it controller bullshit. Every time Lance's dad visits he insists on going into his room, check how Lance does his laundry, what he eats, who his friend are, if he goes to church _because once a week won't kill you, son_.

Lance is sick of it.

"Okay, if you change your mind, I'm one call away," Hunk smiles with a sigh.

"Aww, don't worry big man, with yours and Shiro's advice I'm sure I'll survive," Lance laughs, "but, please, don't tell him anything, as much as I like his 'dad mode' I already had my dose today."

"Hey, you coming or what!" A voice yells at them from the doors where Keith has his head poking out, frowning as always.

"Yeah, yeah, we’re coming, we don't want to miss you fighting with Pidge over a stupid construction game for little kids," Lance mocks before blowing a raspberry in Keith's direction.

The meeting is far beyond insufferable. Lance chooses to leave an empty seat between the others and himself, nesting his chin in his crossed arms on the table. Despite having taken the ibuprofen and the water, his head still hurts and his stomach is still upset. Usually, Lance wouldn't mind to spend three hours talking about team coordination, about symmetry, materials, colours and why Keith shouldn't use lava for everything, but his mind is completely out of it and completely into Keith. With Shiro's rumble as a distant cacophony, Lance brain works as fast as his hangover state lets it, slow but steady. Why he ended up saying the boy's name last night is a complete mystery to Lance, that's the only thing he knows clearly. The other thing he knows is that it can't happen again, as much as he likes it a little rough, his face has to keep his beauty and bruises don't match the colour of his eyes at all.

From his semi hidden spot between his arms and very discreetly, Lance stares a Keith intently as never before. Okay, maybe he has stared at Keith intently before, but that doesn't count because it was Halloween and Keith was wearing that stupid nerd Sasuke costume with his chest bare and that tiny ponytail, or when they went to the pool last summer and Lance had to help him looking for his swimsuit at the bottom of the pool after tripping on the diving board, or when he got his ear pierced, or... it doesn't matter, what matters is that he didn't do it on purpose like Pidge pointed out several times.

Right now Lance is looking at Keith. Intently. On purpose. Focusing on every detail as it had all the answers he needs to unveil the mystery of his own sexual slip.

Whatever Shiro is saying isn't interesting, really, something about the teams they're going to compete against, and even so, Keith attention is on his brother. His dark eyes jump from the white board where Shiro scribbled something at the beginning of the meeting to his brother. From his spot, Lance can see his profile and the way his eyelashes curve up a little.

Pidge says something back and Keith's attention is quickly on her. Lance eyes his pale neck; a couple of moles near his right ear catch his attention when Keith brushes off the hair on his neck with his hand. It looks soft, the hair, Lance thinks. Blinking slowly he follows that hand back to the table again with his eyes. They are nice, a little pale, fingers a little chubby, nails a little bitten... but nice. Lance blinks lazily again and sighs softly in his arms.

Maybe he shouldn't be doing this. All the stare thing, it feels like stalking, however, he can't help it because Keith is shining in a weird light today and Lance's moth part is being pulled and he doesn't have the strength to resist. Not today when his mind isn't his.

The conversation continues, Keith is saying something, his lips moving with each word, his tongue shines a bit when he quickly licks his lower lip. Its weird, it's really weird how Lance's eyes catches every detail of Keith, it's disturbing and it's not helping him at all. Lance hates it. He doesn't feel safe. It has to be his sick brain and his sick stomach, messing everything up... right? Yeah, he must still be drunk.

That's the only explanation.

Just two seconds later, Keith says something again and his lips curve up at the corner and the tiny dimple appears. Something happens in Lance chest because it hurts and he doesn't know if it's a good hurt or a bad one. But it's cute, the dimple is cute, endearing and he wants to touch it with his fingers, rub his nose over it and maybe...

Lance giggles.

Lance giggles so out of the blue and loud enough that everyone turns his way, words dying in Keith's lips and dimple disappearing. Suddenly, with all those eyes on him, with Keith's eyes looking directly at him. Only at him. Tunnel vision hits him and all Lance can see are those dark eyes locked on his.

"Lance, are you okay?" Shiro asks after what feels like hours.

"Uh." Lance snaps out of it, never breaking eye contact with Keith. "I- I think I don't feel well... I..."

"It's just a hangover, Lance", Pidge says condescendingly rolling her eyes, "stop whining."

"I'm not whining! It's Keith's fault!" Lance exclaims pointing at the other boy accusingly.

"How is this my fault?" Keith yells back standing and almost throwing the chair down.

"Well, you gave me the absinthe—"

"Dude! That was something between us!" Keith cries out, treason painted on his face.

"Jesus Christ Keith, what were you doing with a bottle of absinthe?" Shiro interferes, frowning at his brother.

"I- I didn't..." Keith stutters, "ugh, see what you did, Lance?" He adds turning around to look at Lance who is standing now too.

Gritting his teeth, Lance huffs. "Still your fault," he mumbles.

"What? You wanna go?"

"Hey, hey!" Shiro grabs Keith from his hoodie to keep him from jumping on Lance and turns to Pidge, "put down that phone Katie."

"Okay, okay, relax..." She sinks even further on her chair, eyebrows raised in fear.

"Lance, go home if you're not feeling well," Hunk says standing by his friend side. He looks concerned even though fights between them are common whenever they're together.

For the first time since they went inside the meeting room, Lance tears his eyes off Keith to look sadly at Hunk. He feels embarrassed, but mostly confused and frustrated.

"Yeah, you're right, I'll go take a nap and everything will go back to normal," Lance says more to himself than to Hunk.

Leaning down to grab his bag, Lance eyes Keith one more time. The boy doesn't look as mad as he was expecting and it shocks him finding a shadow of confusion over Keith's face. Whatever, all he wants is to leave this weird alternate universe in which Keith seems to have other feelings than angry and distant. Hanging his backpack on his shoulders, Lance staggers toward the exit of the room, avoiding by inches crashing into one of the wooden shelves near the door and dying under dozens of books. He hears the others gasp loudly behind him.

Shiro goes into dad mode and sighs, rubbing his eyes with his hand. "Keith, go with him, please," he says, "make sure he doesn't die."

"What?" Keith exclaims.

"I can stay alive all by myself!" Lance points outraged.

In the matter of seconds, Keith and Shiro exchange a bunch of looks, showing from anger to exasperation. If mental conversations between brothers are real, Lance just witnessed one.

"Fuck, fine," Keith finally concedes with a huff. He also grabs his backpack and walks toward Lance, who is standing by the door with a hand on the doorknob. "Move!"

The walk back is, by all means, awkward as fuck. This is not the first time they're alone together. They've spent a lot of alone time like when they got paired together in their physics class project on Applications of Quantum Mechanics and they spent two of the three days fighting and one working like maniacs because they wasted all their time arguing over milkshake flavours, or when Lance got dumped in the middle of his fourth date and no one was available but Keith to go pick his miserable ass up with his bike from the that fancy restaurant Shiro recommended him, or when Keith forgot the keys and asked Lance at 3 am to stay in his room because everybody knows how Shiro gets every time Keith goes out on a date and arrives home later than midnight. Keith and Lance are a lot of things when they're together, they're infuriating, they're talkative, they're enervating, they even ignore each other after one of their fights. But what they have never been is awkward.

Lost in his thoughts, Lance trips on a dead rut for the second time while they walk through the garden towards the dorms building.

"You okay?" Keith asks, reaching for his arm to help him steady.

Lance doesn't answer, refusing to make eye contact again, knowing that if he looks at Keith once more he will be lost in his dark eyes as before. He needs to stay focus, go home, throw himself on the bed and reset all this bullshit of a day.

"I'm more than okay," Lance laughs, brushing off Keith hand, "I'm perfect; if you look up the meaning of the word on Google all the image results are pictures of me." He smirks, making himself bigger and more confident that he really feels despite knowing that the bags under his eyes are angry purple and bigger than the moon, and that his hair is a mess and that he must smell like a wet raccoon digging for food in a dumpster.

"Hmm," Keith nods.

They walk in silence, side by side, together and yet distant.

When they reach the tile path that leads to the building Lance's dorm is in Keith stops.

"You're being weird today." He says harshly, almost annoyed.

Lance stops too and turns to face Keith, still not looking at the other boy's face.

"Well, yeah, I'm hungover and I embarrassed myself yesterday and..."

"You embarrassed yourself all the time and you never act like this..."

With shock, Lance lifts his gaze from the floor, "so? Why do you even care?" He says low and ashamed.

"What the fuck, Lance?" With determination, Keith takes the two steps that keeps them apart and shoves himself into Lance's space, "what the fuck does that mean? We are friends, of course I care!"

"Friends? We aren't _friends_..." Lance says taking a step back, lifting both eyebrows.

"Are you stupid? We are!" Keith's follows Lance stepping forward, invading Lance's personal space completely.

"Dude, we aren't, three days ago you threw an apple to my face, literally!" Lance states, placing his hands on his hips.

"You wouldn't stop whining about how hungry you were!" Keith explains like it was obvious.

"You didn't help me last Halloween when those kids chased me around campus trying to get on me! You shouted you didn't know me!" Lance says completely offended.

"You were wearing a My Little Pony costume! Even Hunk would have said that!"

"Dude, I ended up in the ER!"

"Pfff... yeah I know," Keith chuckles covering his mouth and looking away.

"It wasn't funny! They had to put me stitches! On my butt!" Lance yells angrily.

"But... but that's our thing!" Keith waves a hand between them, "we fight, we insult each other, yeah, but we also make a good team, right?" The sound of his voice is almost desperate, like he couldn't believe Lance's offended tone. "I know I'm not Hunk but I thought that we understood each other..."

Lance's heart is beating so fast that his head starts spinning, and little has to do with his previous headache. He feels speechless after Keith's revelation, he would feel better if a fucking truck just rolled over him. Keith was his enemy, his rival, his... his friend? Truth to be told Lance knows that Keith's is the perfect definition of Socially Awkward Penguin, so maybe that's where Lance got lost and missed all the signals that, apparently, always had been there; obvious to Keith but hidden for Lance.

At any other moment of his Life Lance would have smiled, nodded and jumped on Keith because this is what he always wanted, but, right now, after last night, after the creepy staring session a few minutes ago, Lance really needs a nap.

Turning around without saying anything, he pushes the door and runs inside the building trying to ignore Keith's voice calling him.

 

* * *

 

Even though the nap do wonders to his headache and his stomach seems completely recovered, asking for food, reality hits Lance like a brick thrown angrily to his face just ten seconds after he opens his eyes.

"Ugh, shit."

Lance presses the heels of his hands on his eyes until a galaxy full of stars explodes behind his eyelids.

"Shit, shit, shit," he murmurs rolling out of the tangled sheet. Lance reaches for his phone under the bed and looks at the time, blinking in pain for the bright light that hit his face.

7:53 pm. Great, he wasted the whole day sleeping.

Going through the notifications on his phone — three messages from Hunk wishing him a good nap, one from Pidge asking him if he still had the external battery she lend him last week and one specially long message from Shiro reminding him everything they talked in the meeting that morning—  Lance's stomach growls, demanding food as soon as possible.

After finding a three days old sandwich inside his gym bag buried in dirty clothes —which he needs to wash because, god, the smell is beyond nauseating— and eating it because why not, he grabs a clean towel, the toilet bag, and makes his way to the communal bathroom at the end of the hallway.

He tries, he really, truthfully tries not to think about Keith while he brushes his teeth, while he washes his face... he tries not to recall all the details his brain was able to imprint on his retinas. His dark eyes that aren't ask dark as he first thought but a little bluish. His round nose. His lips and the way they move softly as he talks. His broad shoulders under the red hoodie. His pale hands and the way he drummed his fingers on the table... it feels weird to think about Keith being a friend, a friend _friend_. Maybe not a friend like Hunk but maybe a friend like Shiro and Pidge, though something about the word friend being said next to _Keith_ feels completely right and encouraging, as if Lance had been trying to name a feeling for a long time and now, finally, Keith had found the perfect word for it. No more 'rival Keith', nor 'fucking mullet', not 'Hey you shut up already'.

Lance finds himself smiling when he looks at his reflection on the mirror.

What to do now? Lance guesses nothing, right? Nothing has to change; they will be the same tomorrow, they will fight as always —yeah, that's so fun, they will laugh —he feels a tug in his belly, they will sneak out again to play laser tag with Pidge right before a test —Lance giggles at the memory... Definitely nothing has to change.

It's not until Lance is under the warm water of the faucet inside  the last stall of the long line of showers, with his hair completely covered by shampoo and the memory of Keith calling him friend over and over again, that he realizes that he's hard.


	3. The fucked up question

Usually, Lance never panics. Okay, maybe he freaks out over nothing 63.4% of the time, but he's sure he never panicked before at the sight of his own dick showing interest in whatever is in front of him. After all, getting a boner in the middle of a shower, while thinking about your recently discovered 'friend', is a really good reason to start panicking.  
  
So Lance does what he does best.  He shrieks and runs.  
  
Once he's safe inside his room again, after slipping twice and getting yelled at by three other dudes in the bathroom he tosses his towel on the floor and runs his hands through his damp hair. Thank god that only one of the guys noticed his 'problem' and wiggled his eyebrows at him. What the fuck. He looks down and... there it is.  
  
"Shut up," Lance hisses to his dick.  
  
He starts pacing from the door to his bed and back, panting and thinking about zombies, about rotten food, kittens, his grandma, whatever it takes to make his hard on go away. He closes his eyes, puffs his cheeks and starts jumping until he smacks his toe into the bed.  
  
"Fucking hell," Lance cries falling backwards on the floor and trying to reach his poor toe.  
  
With tears in his eyes he crawls over the bed, completely naked and miserable, not giving a fuck about his now wet pillow, where he stares at the ceiling for a while until his eyes fall on his lap again. This must be a joke, a filthy, sick joke from the universe; Lance is sure there's someone, in another parallel universe, in another galaxy, laughing at his expenses, taking pictures and creating the most successful meme in the history of whatever disturbing internet they have.  
  
Desperately, he blinks quickly and pulls his short damp hair with force, but, deep inside he knows it won't go away until he takes care of it. Fuck it, if this is what the universe wants from him, better to put on a good show.  
  
Lowering his left hand, Lance sighs and tries to steady his breath and relax a little, though he finds himself quite an expert in the matter, he feels more nervous than normal. Relax, man, it's just a quick jerk and you'll be done, your life will be back to the normal amount of weirdness. His hand makes his way down and down, caressing the small bump of his stomach under his navel, where the tension is starting to build up even without a touch on lower regions. Lance closes his eyes and tries to picture someone to help him go through it, someone sexy, someone exciting, pretty, someone that make him feel the rush of the moment right now; he bits his lips and breathes out through his nose when his hand finally, finally, reaches its destination. He's hard and hot and the pleasure of the first movement makes him quirk his hips a little. Nyma is his first option; her kisses are fresh in his memory despite not remembering much after that.  
  
Yes, this is nice, Lance thinks to himself, lips parted and left hand working slowly up and down. He knows what he likes, he has been doing this since the day two of his classmates decided to grow boobs after summer break.  
  
After a couple of minutes he realises that picturing Nyma isn't working at all, ugh. Lance's imagination is pretty shitty, he has always needed "visual aid" for his solo performances, being videos, magazines or even a lingerie catalogue once. Okay, twice. Ugh, okay, he still has it hidden inside a folder mixed between old papers and two Paulina Rubio's posters. However, right now, he doesn't have the energy to get up and grab it, and he dropped his phone somewhere in the room earlier before the shower and he needs to end this as soon as possible.  
  
Making a great effort, Lance shuts his eyes tightly again and lets his brain follow his dick's lead.  
  
Everything is black behind his eyelids until a figure comes close to him; the light skin seems to glow in the dark, muscular arms move to cage him from the shadows and a face is so close that Lance holds his breath in surprise. Sharp, deep eyes framed by silky messy black hair pin him to the bed; Lance recognises it immediately but he does nothing about it, how could he when his cock is harder than ever in his hand, dripping precum and practically screaming for more friction?  
  
The room is hot around him and the mere idea of that toned and firm body so close to him makes the heat inside his body almost unbearable.  
  
His right hand keeps working his shaft and any trace of doubt disappear with the small longing sigh that leaves his lips. Writhing on his bed, Lance's legs kick the sheets off the bed as the invisible figure kneels between his legs slowly, not breaking eye contact in any moment, liking lips hungrily.  
  
A pair of thin but soft lips hovers over his skin near his belly giving small, teasing touches as they, very slowly, reach the end of the path. A couple of hands appear, grabbing his thighs and sliding up until they take a hold of Lance's hips, rubbing their thumbs calmly over the sensitive skin between his hips and his groin. Lance shivers at the sensation, rubbing his own thumb over the swollen head of his cock to intensify the feeling smearing the precum in little circles.  
  
Finally, a loud moan escapes his lips —it's raw and breathless, Lance barely recognises himself in it, and once again he's grateful for not having to share a room with anyone. His breathing is too laborious to try to keep it quiet, so moans, groans and gasps fill the small room, mixing in an erotic symphony making Lance's arousal grow strong in his stomach.  
  
"Kei— ngh..." Lance grunts.  
  
Encouraged by his own mind, lips are now over the head of his erection, a tongue poking out tentatively to lick the little clear drop on top of the girth, and Lance only has to imagine that mouth devouring him like a starving man, sucking at the thin skin, teeth scratching slightly the hard flesh... and the warm, hot wetness that is setting him on fire to know that he's completely lost, there is no turning back in this.  
  
Lance's hand is now so slick with precum that the small burn from the beginning is completely gone now. The imaginary hands move, pressing hard on his skin, the mouth swallowing him whole over and over again as his panting becomes louder and louder, his hips pushing harder into his fist. A faint smell of sex fills the room and Lance inhales it hungrily, making the whole scene in his head more vivid, more real; the head between his legs starts bobbing up and down following the rhythm of his hand and the soft tongue swirls around the angry red head of his cock, sucking desperately, pulling high pitch moans off his throat. The dark hair falling in a silky cascade over the other boy's eyes seems so soft that Lance feels curious about it, he wants to tug it, hard, run his fingers through it and feel the up and down movement that is bringing him to the edge.  
  
Almost, just almost, he can feel the fingers digging in his flesh, moving to grab his ass, lifting it to play with his cheeks, encouraging him to move faster, to fuck harder.  
  
As he keeps frantically pumping himself, Lance bends his knees and arches his back, feeling too good to stay still. He's close, he's so close and he wants it so much that he's afraid of dying right after. Releasing the sheets he has been clutching the whole time with his right hand, Lance cups his balls and squeezes them, groaning in painful pleasure.  
  
"I'm— I'm gonna c-come," Lance chokes between pants, even knowing that everything is part of his imagination, he doesn't want this to stop, he wants to come down that throat, push even further, hold that head in place as he spills inside in the most animalistic way. It's his fantasy, he can do whatever he wants, he will do whatever he needs to find his release.  
  
With a grunt and a specially hard tug at the wet and sticky head of his cock, Lance starts coming, hips jerking, stomach tensing, back arching, right hand curling over the head to catch as much cum as possible. When the orgasm hits him, his jaw relaxes a little, the small gap between his lips is enough to let the low and shaky moan escape; his hand moving in almost slow motion while cum starts falling over his stomach between his fingers.  
  
With his eyes still close, wheezing and gulping for air, Lance can clearly see how Keith's mouth, cheeks still hollow, releases his dick with a slurping noise. _Oh, god, he would look so good with cum dripping down his chin_ , Lance thinks feeling his face even more hot than before. He imagines him licking the thick drops off him, soft and warm tongue collecting the remains of his release from his stomach too. When the imaginary Keith lifts his head from Lance's lap, with his pink tongue still licking his redden lips, the deep dark hole that his eyes are steal all the air inside Lance's lungs.  
  
After a few minutes, when his heart is working more like a human one than a hare's, Lance opens his eyes and a couple of tears fall of the corner of his eyes.  
  
"FUCKING HELL!" He screams, throat sore and dry as he smashes his right hand on the wall, accidentally smearing the cooling cum over it. "SHIT, FUCK," he repeats, each word accompanied by a new bang on the same spot.  
  
Instantly, there's an angry knock on the other side of the wall followed by a muffled "dude, knock it off, it's bad enough that I had to hear the whole thing."  
  
Blushing hard and stuttering a little, Lance responses, "I- I hope you enjoyed it, make it a good meme," before jumping off the bed for something to clean himself and the gross Jackson Pollock that was now the wall.  
  
Two showers later, Lance is laying on his bed again, completely clothed in his pyjamas this time, one hand over his eyes and the other gripping his phone with a finger over the calling button next to Hunk's contact name. This can't be happening, it's too unreal to be really happening, because Lance just broke rule number one in life: don't jerk off to anyone you know. However, what’s done is done, and now, what Lance has to do is worry for his stupid brain and his dumb mouth to not spill it out ever. This will be a secret he will take to the grave if he wants things to be as they were before, he won't let this, whatever just happened, ruin things with Keith now that they are... friends.  
  
Lance sighs and leaves the phone next to him on the bed, curling on his side and resting his hands in loose fists in front of him.  
  
He knows what kind of attraction he's feeling, he's not that stupid after all, thought it's so confusing because it's Keith, Keith. K-e-i-t-h. And it's a problem for a lot of reasons: one and most important, Lance is straight and can't be otherwise. Two, it's fucking Keith. Three, straight, straight, straight. Four, for fuck's sake, it's KEITH.  
  
Whatever happens from now on , Lance has to accept this: his might have a tiny little microscopic crush on Keith. Maybe. No, definitely. It's not a coincidence he said his name when... well, when he said it, or that he just... Well, that he just masturbate imagining his friend sucking his dick; this is something he has been dragging with him for a while without him even noticing.  
  
Thinking retrospectively about his relationship with Keith, he shouldn't be so surprised.  
  
Despite being utterly tired and completely brain dead, Lance doesn't sleep that night and it has nothing to do with his almost finished paper for tomorrow waiting for him on the desk. There's a face, floating in front of him every time he closes his eyes and he just wants it to go the hell away.  


* * *

  
  
Next morning, Lance jumps out of the bed before the alarm of his phone goes off with an almost disturbingly wild look in his eyes. He has completely missed his skin care night routine, and Lance knows that that, combined with a night of tossing around on the bed babbling certain boy's name and the insane plan he formed in his sleep deprived head —put it together at untimely hours of the night after he frenziedly tried to crack his head against a pillow, can't be a nice sight. But if he's going to do this, he has to do it before he regrets it.  
  
It's 8 am so Lance still has, he checks the time on his watch, another half an hour until Keith leaves the gym to go to his first class at 9. Good.  
  
With the tip of his tongue poking out his mouth, Lance runs across the room picking up clothes from the floor just to smell them and drop them back down again with a wrinkled nose. He needs to do laundry, urgently, before he ends up forced to wear his My Little Pony costume to class or before next Friday when his father comes to visit and... Lance shakes his head while pulling up a pair of clean short shorts. No negative thoughts right now. Focus.  
  
Taking a pen from the desk he writes 'laundry' on his left palm next to the word 'Battery'.  
  
"Mierda," Lance hisses when he sees the blurred ink on his hand. He completely forgot about Pidge's Battery.  
  
Destiny, as funny and inconvenient as it always is, decides to knock on his door at the exact moment he has half of his body buried under his bed looking for the damn external battery he forgot to return yesterday because he was too lost touching his junk to remember.  
  
"Lance!" A voice calls between knocks. "Fuck, Lance, open the door!"  
  
The boy under the bed hits his head in his way out, cursing but grinning and gripping a black box in his hand.  
  
"What the fuck Lance," Pidge swears angrily when said boy opens the door of his room and lets her in. "You knew I needed the battery today! I told you to give it back yesterday, but no, you had to ignore all my messages. I even called you! You know how much I hate calling people on the phone!" She rumbles as he snatches the battery from Lance's hands. Pushing the button next to the USB ports, she watches three of the four lights illuminate and sighs before saying, "at least it is charged, thank god. This is why I don't want you to touch my things, you never return them." Pidge lifts her gaze off the gadget and takes a look at Lance, who is frozen in fear in front of her. "What the hell are you wearing?"  
  
Lance, in his attempt to wear clean clothes, only found a pair of neon blue short shorts and an oversized hoodie with a sushi cartoon on front and the words "sushi style" printed on Japanese on the back that must be Hunk's (Pidge is right, Lance never returns things). To complete the outfit, a pair of dark blue flip flops he used to shower last night cling to his toes with zero elegance.  
  
"I'm sorry about yesterday, I was pretty busy—" Lance starts.  
  
"Yeah, it smells like 'busy' in here," Pidge interrupts pinching his nose and shooting Lance a smug grin.  
  
"—and I completely forgot." He finishes before looking at his watch again. "Fuck, I'm late. Look, I'm in the middle of an existential crisis right now and I have to leave—" Lance says walking to his desk and grabbing a thick plastic folder from it.  
  
"I doubt you know what an existential crisis is," Pidge murmurs to herself.  
  
"— so if you please, please, please could go to Iverson's office on your way to class, and give this to him would be great, would the the awesomest. I would owe you a big one, the biggest one!" Lance pleas, handing her his paper on Radiation Fields and the Radiative Transfer.  
  
"No," she deadpans.  
  
"What?! Come on, Pidge, please! Please, please, PLEASE, I will owe you a really big one!"  
  
"You already owe me four "big ones". You said the same when you took my battery."  
  
"But this time I really, really need your help," Lance begs, contemplating if kneeling in front of her would help his cause or not.  
  
Crossing her arms, Pidge stares at Lance tilting her head with curiosity. After a few seconds watching  Lance biting his lips and jumping awkwardly on his flip flops with the folder still extended to her, she says, ”Okay." She takes Lance's paper and almost drops it. "Wow, heavy."  
  
"Pidge, you're my saviour, thank you, thank you," Lance cries shaking his friend by the shoulders.  
  
"Ack, Lance. I hope this helps you with whatever crisis you're having with Keith, at least," Pidge says, readjusting her glasses on her nose.  
  
"Wha—" Lance exclaims as he takes another look at his watch, "Shit, shit, shit, I'm late. Pidge, thank you, I'm leaving. I'm late. I'm late!"  
  
Without a warning Lance smacks his lips against Pidge's and storms out of his room, running towards the stairs and almost losing a flip flop, leaving the girl completely grossed out and shutting the door behind her as she rubs her lips with the sleeve of her sweater.  
  
"Yeah, run, White Rabbit, run, Alice is waiting."

 

* * *

  
  
It's 8:24 according to his watch and he's so late. He runs like the devil, almost falling three times thanks to the stupid flip flops that insist on slipping off his feet. Thank you, more like fuck you.  
  
The gym isn't far from his dorm building but it feels like he's been running for an hour, it's cold and the threatening clouds up in the sky are no good augury. Lance starts panting when he turns the corner to the coffee shop, where they usually buy hot chocolate after leaving the gym in the mornings and starting their class.  
  
When he enters the small building through the glass automatic doors he's drenched in sweat despite the goosebumps covering his completely bare legs. Lance waves his hand towards the girl, who smiles and waves back, at the information point near the doors without even winking or shooting finger guns at her as he walks quickly towards the doors with a 'weight room' plate above the frame.  
Lance checks room after room but Keith is nowhere in sight, which means he's in the changing room or that he didn't come today; either way, he keeps looking until one of the guys he usually does spinning with tells him that Keith just left to hit the showers.  
  
Without wasting a second Lance sprints towards the locker room just to find it empty but for a open gym bag —Keith's gym bag— on one of the benches. Blinded by the rush of the moment and the fast thumping inside his chest he reaches the door of the bathroom/showers, not thinking, just doing.  
  
His eyes wander for a fraction of a second over the room until he spots a mullet he would recognise anywhere. Keith is standing in front of one of the urinals with his back to Lance, next to another guy who is talking to him animatedly.  
  
"Keith!" Lance yells with all the force his tired lungs let him.  
  
The boy starts in shock and turns his head to look at Lance with eyes like saucers, with the bad luck that he misses the urinal and starts peeing on the floor.  
  
"What the fuck!" Keith curses loudly glaring at Lance without turning completely.  
  
"Keith, you're gay," Lance blurts.  
  
"Yeah, I know, thanks for the update," Keith says turning around to face the wall again.  
  
When Lance left his room fifteen minutes ago he was a man with a plan; right now he is a man with a malfunctioning brain and a very incomplete plan.  
  
"KEITH," Lance screams again, panicking and feeling the sweat dripping down his back. "YOU'RE GAY! HAVE SEX WITH ME!"  
  
The silence that falls over them is enough to shut the echoes of Lance's words in the big room. The sound of a shower running stops, the gasp of Keith's gym buddy dies in his mouth and the whole universe stops to look at them.  
  
"What the actual fuck," Keith whispers zipping up his jeans and looking at the guy next to him he says to him, "I don't know him."  
  
"KEITH, HAVE SEX WITH ME!" Lance repeats.  
  
The thing is that Lance has always been a little bit of a maniac about his looks, he never leaves home without checking himself on the mirror first: hair, skin, clothes... He used to make fun of his older brother until he started doing it too when he reached puberty. In this moment, if he would have taken a look at himself in the mirror before leaving his room he wouldn't have left in a million years; his hair is a sweaty mess, glued to his forehead, his clothes completely mismatched and his skin worthy of the 'Freddy Krueger of the year' award, dark bags under his eyes, crazy look and everything. Why Keith didn't punch him right away is a mystery.  
  
"What? Why? WHAT? What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK," Keith retorts finally facing him and stepping on the puddle of his own piss. "Ugh," he groans moving forward and looking at his sneakers with a wrinkled nose. Then he stares at Lance with a puzzled look for a few seconds, studying the other boy in tense silence, biting his lip and narrowing his eyes until just a sliver of his eyes is visible. For a moment, Lance thinks that he's gonna say yes. Test to have sex with him. To have intercourse with him, both naked and maybe they would kiss and— "Go away," Keith interrupts Lance's train of thought.  
  
"You're gay, you like guys," Lance insists, his deranged words reverberating on the tiled walls.  
  
"Should I... go?" The guy next to Keith asks shyly, too scared to move, as a muffled laugh echoes from the shower stalls.  
  
"YES, THAT IS THE DEFINITION OF GAY, NOW, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, LANCE," Keith yells completely red in the face.  
  
"But..." Lance mumbles taking a step back. His plan isn't going as expected. Well, actually he didn't plan anything beyond the part in which he finds Keith, but he's a good improviser, he thought he could manage the conversation. What he wasn't expecting is his tired and confused brain starting short circuiting the moment his eyes landed on Keith and a myriad of images of last night inundating his mind.  
  
"LANCE, I SWEAR, IF YOU DON'T LEAVE RIGHT NOW I WILL PUNCH YOU," Keith menaces, taking two steps forward and lifting his fist.  
  
"Okay, okay, okay," Lance mutters scared and wide eyed. This was a mistake, this was a huge mistake and Lance can feel the embarrassment creeping up his skin.  
  
One second later he's running back towards his dorm again because what the fuck was he thinking. Oh, there's the problem. He wasn't. He thought he was but he really wasn't. The plan was perfect in his mind: find Keith, ask him for help, problem solved. The question is why did he think that asking Keith to have sex with him would be a good idea? Where did it even come from? He just felt the impulse blooming in his chest and went with it. His mouth blurted the words before he could decipher its meaning and stop the hecatomb of social butchery that the sentence brought with it.  
  
The alarm of his phone finds Lance sitting on his bed staring blankly at the wall, regretting the past two days of his life. Slowly, he takes his phone out of the hoodie pouch and stares at it like an empty body whose soul already ascended without waiting for it to die before leaving. If he doesn't leave now he will be late for his Astronomy class and he really can't mis this one, not with professor Montgomery's tendency to notice when he isn't in his class even when the room is packed with students.  
  
After readjusting the flip flops on his feet, Lance grabs his laptop and backpack and heads to his class. He doesn't even combs his hair. Fuck it, this day can't be worse.  
  
Just a phone call is needed to make him see how wrong he is.  
  
"Yeah?" Lance answers the phone at the same time he goes inside the classroom, still half empty.  
  
"Lance! Did you have sex with Keith?" Hunk’s loud cry from the other side of the line makes him wince and take the phone off his ear.  
  
"Wha— WHAT? NO!" Lance exclaims looking astonished at the screen of his phone as he sits in the back of the class, trying to cover his legs with the hoodie. "Hunk, what are you saying? Where did you hear that?"  
  
"On Facebook, Pidge just sent it to me. So, you didn't... you know? Did you ask him to marry you and he rejected you after you two hooked up in the gym bathroom? How anti-hygienic. Also, is it true that you're pregnant? Wait. This can't be right."  
  
"No, Hunk. What the hell. Who wrote that?"  
  
"A guy named Bariq... I can't read the last name. Oh. I know him. He's yours and Keith's gym buddy." Hunk chuckles and adds, "man, his post already has 170 likes and it's from six minutes ago."  
  
"Ugh. Fucking shit." Lance leans back on the chair, slipping down it and covering his eyes with his hand. "This isn't happening."  
  
"Oh hoho, it's happening, and now it has 230 likes and—" Lance cuts the call before his lungs explode trying to hold a scream he's dying to let go. He puts the hood over his head and pulls of the laces, just leaving his eyes uncovered, wanting the ground to swallow him whole for the second time in less than three days.  
  
As the rest of the students enter the class and start eyeing him and whispering behind his hands, Lance realises that he was wrong, things can be worse. And they are the worst they can be.


	4. The fucked up answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’LL DO IT!”
> 
> (Oh no, Keith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo, thanks, Essie, for everything <3

Three very unproductive hours later Lance is once again in his room, picking up his dirty clothes to put them inside a huge cotton bag he usually uses to carry them to get them clean. By the time he's finished he's sure that his whole wardrobe is fitted inside the bag, ready to be clean at the laundry room Hunk and Shay have at their apartment’s basement. After changing the flip flops for a pair of sneakers, Lance leaves the room, gigantic bag over his shoulder and hood hiding his face. If he's lucky nobody will notice him on his way to the bus stop.

The ride, though short, gives him time to think. It's not like he's new to embarrassing himself, hell no. Like that time he went to school with his hair covered by little braids and pink bows Gabriela insisted on doing the night before. Or when he called the cabin leader ‘mami’ not once but twice at Space Camp. In his defence, she looked a fuck ton like his mother. Or when he lost a bet with Pidge and had to wear a dress for a whole day, but that one doesn't count. He looks awesome in a dress. In the end he will do what he always does: shrug it off and keep going with his life. People aren’t that interested in his life, they will forget, Keith… Keith will too, right? Lance hugs the smelly clothes in the bag on his lap tighter and leans against the glass, watching the buildings pass as little drops start to fall against the window of the bus. He shivers anticipating the cold on his bare legs.

Suddenly, his phone buzzes. With some effort due to the enormous bag on his legs and after elbowing the man sitting next to him, Lance fishes his phone  from the hoodie pouch and looks at the notifications showing on the screen. Two new messages from Pidge — _ this meme reminded me of you; lmao some girl called Laura just asked me if you changed teams, what should I tell her? _ — and one from Shiro which only contains one word: ‘ _ Lance _ ’, disapproval intonation and all. Sighing, Lance rests the phone on top of the bag and frowns worriedly.

Hunk’s and Shay’s apartment is small but cozy, full of plants due to Shay’s dedication to her major in Environmental Science, and placed in the ninth floor of a ten story building, with a beautiful view of the river and all the parks and green areas surrounding it. After a run under the rain, Lance is finally sitting on the small mustard yellow couch, a towel over his head, wearing one of Shay’s pink tracksuits and Mimi, the gray and white cat, curled on his lap. With his clothes washing in the basement all he can do now is wait and, maybe, enjoy one of Shay’s delicious cups of chocolate.

“Here,” Shay says, offering a steamy cup to Lance, who takes his hands away from the soft fur to reach it. “I put extra sugar in the chocolate by the way,” she says winking at him with a smile.

“Yay! Shay, you're the best!” Lance says. Then he takes a deep breath, inhaling the sweet aroma of the chocolate. “I should have asked you out before Hunk did.”

“No, way, buddy. I would have to fight you for this one,” Hink says, hugging the girl by the waist when she sits on the armrest of the armchair in front to Lance.

Silently, sipping his hot, extra sweet, chocolate carefully, Lance can feel the elephant in the room poking him on the head. That, and the looks Hunk and Shay are giving him.

“I'm not gonna tell,” he says without looking at them.

“Aw, come on!” Hunk complains. “The post already has more than one thousand likes and all it says is a lie… right?”

“Haven't read it,” Lance mutters, looking away.

“Something must have happened, a story like that doesn't come up out of the blue…” Shay says, shifting on her seat. She's not mistaken, but Lance doesn't want to admit how much he fucked up, if he doesn't talk about it, it will go away.

“Well, we know for sure that he isn't pregnant, that part is a lie. And the marrying part? That can't be true either, because, come on, they're Lance and Keith… that, can't be true…” Hunk drags his eyes towards Lance, who is now furiously blushing,  unsure of his own words, “right?”

“Nothing happened! Nothing is gonna happen! It was a misunderstanding, nothing else,” Lance snaps, his face beet red and eyes about to pop out of his sockets.

“Aw! He's embarrassed!” Shay exclaims, jumping from his spot to sit next to Lance and give him a side hug.

“Buddy, don't worry, people will forget. I mean, do you remember the ‘Rainbow Dash costume incident’? They stopped talking about it a week after the ER photo went viral—” Hunk says.

“Yeah, thank you for posting it…” Lance says sarcastically.

“—an it only got like two thousand notes on tumblr! You were famous for, what? Two weeks? You even got that girl’s number…”

“Oh, yeah, Laura…” Lance says dreamily.

“My point here is, people don't care, really, they will forget. Eventually. Remember that guy who broke his two arms trying to climb up the weird triangle statue on our first week here? Do you remember his name? His face?” Hunk gets up from the armchair and sits on the opposite side, sandwiching Lance between he and Shay.

“No…”

“See? Don't worry, man, whatever happened, can't be that bad,” Hunk says happily.

“Yeah!” Lance smiles, feeling a little better.

“And maybe you could even get some this time, who knows,” Shay adds, trying to cheer Lance up.

“Yeah!” Lance's exclaims, eyes sparkling and beaming, mouth watering at all the chicks lining up just to get his number.

“So… are you gonna tell us?” Hunk asks tentatively, again.

“Not in a million years,” Lance sighs, smiling, deep in his fantasy.

Fortunately for him, the ride back gives Lance two girls smiling at him and one even waving her hand at him. Yeah, things aren't that bad.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday morning surprises Lance with a beautiful blue sky after all the rain of the day before and, with a little bounce in his step, he leaves his room after a good night of sleep,  well cared of skin and a nice combed hair. Hunk was totally right; he can make the best of the situation, he loves the attention, and being lovable is Lance’s specialty. So what if there is some staring? So what if there is some whispering? As long as nobody starts throwing rotten fruit at him, everything will be fine.

On his way to his first class of the morning, Lance winks at a girl who doesn't stop looking at him. After his second class he talks to a cute chick who shyly ask him if the rumours are true with shiny eyes, but dismisses her the second she says that they make a cute couple.  _ Him _ . And  _ Keith _ .  _ Together _ . As in a  _ couple _ . Lance huffs, annoyed and turns to walk to his next class.

Two hours Later and three phone calls from Hunk, Pidge and Shiro reminding him of that evening’s game — _ we worked hard for this, Lance, we can win this time, Lance, don't be late for fuck’s sake, Lance _ , he is taking his laptop from his room and heading out, thinking about if he should take the bus to the Informatics Engineering building, that is far as fuck from his dorm, or just walk under the nice blue sky, when his phone buzzes for a fourth time. The name and picture that flashes on the screen makes Lance stop on his track.

Keith.

He completely forgot about Keith, he has managed not to think about him since he talked with Hunk on Monday. Somehow, yesterday, Keith's name didn't pop up in his mind, having busied himself with classes, homework and Pidge’s complaining when he tried to borrow her battery again — _ buy one yourself asshole, stop touching my things _ .

He didn't know how much he was dreading facing Keith again until his name appeared on his phone. His hand is shaking and a cold sweat starts forming on his furrowed brows. He doesn't want to answer, he can't answer, he… Fuck. He turns off the phone and ignores the call. He thought he could control this, but, in the end, Keith is the only variable that he isn't capable of avoiding. Sooner or later he will have to look at his face, tell him to forget it, maybe Lance will have to dodge a fist thrown at his face, or two if the first one misses. And it's going to be sooner, just as his left palm says, because ‘the nerd games’ start in one hour and that means, of course, that Keith will be there.

The walk helps him to prepare himself mentally. Lance is nervous and nothing has to do with the stupid Team Build Battle game. He can't understand why he is so anxious, this is not the first time he fucked thing up with Keith, this is not the first time he had to apologise to him, so, why does it matters so much this time? Because he actually meant it? Because he is scared of his answer? Because he is scared of losing his friend?

“Lance, you're late!” Looking up from the floor, Lance sees Pidge waving her hands at him, wearing a green sweater too big for her that Lance is sure of having seen on Matt before. “Come on, there's a change of plans. I'll explain on our way,” she says  as she leaves the door open for him.

“A change of plans? Pidge, this is just building shit with colored blocks as fast as possible. There's no science in it.” Lance says, following her inside through the empty hallway.

“It's more complex than that! Look, there's no time. The other team showed up earlier with the referee and, apparently, the rules for the final aren't the same as they are for the previous games. Crazy, right? They should have sent us an email or something! All the planning for nothing!” Pidge explains loudly as she moves her hands quickly.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Breathe. Good. Now tell Papi what he has to do and he'll fix everything.” Lance says, stopping Pidge and holding her by her shoulders.

“Papi? Really? Okay, okay. So, it's not the normal ‘we all build the theme in five minutes and the best of seven wins’ kind of deal. There are gonna be three rounds, first the individual, blind vote at the end, then by pairs; we will have to beat the pair we will playing against and, finally, the whole team together against the other.” Pidge informs as they reach the staircase that will lead them to the theirs floor where the class that professor Coran is letting them use.

“So, three rounds, five minutes each, three different themes. Got it,” Lance makes an affirmative nod with his head. He can be professional if needed. Even if it's just for a kid’s game.

“Aaaand… I feel like I need to tell you this before you freak out,” she says, stopping in front of one of the doors at the long hallway. “You're paired with Keith,” she says with a chuckle before pushing the doors and going inside the room.

“What?”

 

* * *

 

This can't be happening. This is hell. He's dead and in hell and his hands are sweating and he is supposed to be building a rocket and the only thing he can focus on right now is Keith's knee bumping against his own, the faint smell of his cologne, the warmth that his body is beaming, the curve of his nose, his shiny eyes, glowing at the light of the laptop scre—

“Lance! Focus!” Shiro whispers at him from his right side.

Yes, focus Lance. Build the best damn rocket these losers have ever seen. Three minutes left and he hasn't placed a single cube.

When he stepped inside the classroom, barely fifteen minutes ago, he was surprised by his sudden ability to spot Keith inside the room in just a fraction of a second. Though everyone was already there, greeting him, he could only focus on Keith, his sight turning into a weird tunnel vision with the boy in the center and nothing else around him. Lance is not sure if he said anything to his teammates, to Shiro, who was setting the laptops on the same side of the long table. Or to Pidge and Shay, who took Lance’s laptop from his hands when they saw him freeze and turn so red that he started glowing. Or to Hunk, who pushed him towards the chairs and made him sit on one of them. Or to Keith, who sat by his left side and said something to him, frowning. He didn't even flirt with the silver haired girl from the other team when they introduced themselves and she was hot as hell, he was sure of it, but he couldn't focus on her at all when Keith didn't stop shooting glances at him like he was trying to set him on fire.

The little yellow letters on the screen warn him that he only has two minutes left to finish the stupid rocket. Lance starts,  _ finally _ , placing the cubes in the middle of the small space given to create the piece. Completely absent minded, he clicks the buttons of the mouse with his clammy fingers. Click. Click. Click. The room is silent but for the sound of twelve mouses scratching the table and the clicking of the button. Shit, why did Keith had to sit next to him? Why is he still bumping his knee against his? Why does he look so nice wearing that red and black flannel shirt?

One minute left. He keeps placing cubes as fast as the mouse lets him but his mind can't stop screaming at him why he had to ask that question to the boy sitting next to him and how bad he wants him to say yes and, oh, boy, how nice his hair would feel under his fingertips—

“Time,” the referee announces.

Everyone around him start whispering, getting ready to vote on the work of each player without knowing who built it.

The knee bumps again against him and Lance loses focus again, voting randomly as his eyes dart to his left one more time. Keith is looking at him with one of his eyebrows lifted and moving his lips in a silent question: they might be saying ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ but all Lance can hear is ‘I'm gonna murder you’. He gulps and turns his head again to look at the next piece they have to vote on.

“What the—” he mutters.

“Who the hell built a fucking penis?” Pidge yells before bursting into laughter.

“Lance!” Shiro scolds, smacking the back of his head mercilessly.

“Ouch! It wasn't me!” He complains, clicking at his screen to show that he can vote on it to prove he wasn't the nasty author of the awful looking dick showing on the screen. When the option to vote doesn't appear anywhere he says: “shit.”

It goes without saying that they lose the first round.

Teaming up with Keith is always easy when there aren't words in the middle, maybe that's why they make such a good team in a game where speak with your partner isn't allowed. Whenever they play games at Keith's place or at the arcade, damn, even when they play cards between classes to kill time, they end up fighting, yelling and sometimes there is even some hair pulling. The point is that they make a good team and Shiro was completely right when he decided to put them together for this round. After the dick-rocket disaster and another Shiro’s patented head-smack, Lance’s focus seems to have found his way back because, maybe it's wrong  for him to say this, they're  _ killing _ it.

The theme given to them, vague as fuck, was  _ art _ .

It took just one glance at Keith to know exactly what to do, to recall that lazy evening after they took their last exam of the season, hanging out in Keith's room, both half dead after the  _ finals infernal week _ . Lying on the floor while Keith was face down on his mattress, Lance looked at the posters pinned to the yellow walls in comfortable silence. There were so many of them, each one with a different photograph of a plane. Lance tried to count them but when he reached the number twelve he had to stop before falling asleep.

“Why do you have so many plane posters?” He asked low and tiredly, not expecting an answer from the sleeping Keith on the bed.

“I like them, shut up.” The answer came muffled by the pillow Keith had his head buried into.

Lance fell silent once again, admiring the pictures of the powerful and magnificent flying machines with half lidded eyes, trying to absorb the energy the images evoked through the soft lines of the fuselage of each one of them. He got lost in the images of blue skies, white clouds and fast aircrafts crossing through them like shiny metallic birds in the middle of the migratory season. For a moment, Lance understood the beauty in them, he understood what Keith saw in them and admired him for having found such a beautiful theme to feel passionate about.

“I like them too,” Lance said after a while turning his head towards the bed. A black and white poster caught his eye and asked, pointing weakly with his long finger, “what kind of plane is that one?”

With a low groan, Keith lifted his head to look at the poster Lance was pointing at, eyes almost closed and hair sticking wildly to his face.

“It's a Lockheed 10-E Electra,” Keith answered tiredly.

“And who's the woman standing next to it? Is she like a model? She's wearing too much clothes to be a model…”

“She's Amelia Earhart, dumbass.” Keith rolled his eyes at the same time a small smile made his lips quirk upwards.

“Don't know who she is,” Lance replied, ignoring the insult.

“She's… ugh, I'm too tired for your ignorance,” Keith groaned before dropping his head onto the pillow again.

“And that one,” Lance asked, pointing to another poster near the ceiling, “the one that looks like a weird alien?”

“Which one?” Keith asked. There were too many posters to identify the one Lance was asking for.

“The one on the left of that blue and yellow one,” Lance specified before pointing with his hand to the wall.

“Oh, that one. Well, that's technically a drone. It's a MQ-1 Predator and it's remotely piloted from the ground.”

“Coooool,” Lance wheezed, blinking slowly. He went silent again, letting his eyes wander from one side of the wall to another. His breathing became slower and his eyelids felt heavy as he fought to maintain his eyes open.

“That one was my dad’s favourite.” Keith's voice startled Lance, making him lift his head from the carpet with a jolt. Keith was pointing at weird looking black plane pinned next to his bed. “I was thirteen when he took me to fly for the first time. He rented a small aeroplane, I was so nervous I don't even remember the model,” he huffed a dry laugh as he turned his body to face Lance on the floor. “He showed me how to fly, how to love the feeling of a human defying the law of gravity with a machine designed to do the impossible. He showed me to love the stillness of the world from so far above and the quietness of the weightlessness of your thoughts when a 600 kilograms aircraft is purring under your hands.” Keith lifted his hands up to look at them. He clenched them a couple of times before adding, “I stopped piloting when he died.”

The sadness in Keith's voice made Lance's chest hurt in a way he didn't think it was possible. For a whole minute, Lance struggled to find a way to answer Keith’s revelation, but he didn't come up with anything; his family was whole and alive, he even had his four great-grandparents alive and kicking back in Cuba, for god’s sake. He knew Keith's and Shiro’s parents died when the younger was in his last year of high school, but he also knew that they never spoke about it.  _ Ever _ . But somehow, Keith was talking about it right then, and the fact that the subject was making him sound so sad was also making Lance upset. Really upset.

So it was Lance's duty to make Keith sound happy again.

“Do you know how to pilot that?” Lance asked with   forced awe.

“What? No. That's a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird, the fastest plane that can be piloted by a human. It could fly at Mach 3,” Keith responded with a laugh, “they stopped using it in 1998.”

“It looks cool. I get why it was your dad’s favourite.” Lance smiled softly.

“Yeah, he loved the design of the fuselage. He used to say that the engineers convinced the designers to make it that way, and thanks to that it became the fastest plane ever built. A true piece of art,” Keith said with a bright smile on his face as he was looking at the image of the dark plane on the wall.

“Yeah. A true piece of art,” Lance repeated even though he wasn't looking at the poster anymore.

Back to the present, Lance is clicking like a maniac, working side by side (literally) with Keith to finish the Blackbird on time. One minute left and they're placing each of the red lines by the sides. Thirty seconds left and they're building some tiny mountains under the plane to make it look like it's flying high in the sky. Ten seconds left and they add some sparks around the engines. Two seconds left and they high five without even looking at each other. When the yellow words on the screen say that the time is over and the referee makes them lift both of his hands, Keith and Lance finally look at each other, big grins on their faces, cheeks red with excitement. They make, indeed, a good team.

 

* * *

 

As it turns out, there's no trophy nor medal when they end up winning. Not even a ratty diploma.  Lame.

After the final round ended, the referee declared their team as the winner, having defeated the other team in two of the three rounds. Pidge howled so high that Keith had to cover his ears with both hands, Shiro and Hunk high fived beaming, Shay tried to catch Pidge as she bounced around the long table, calling ‘loosers’ to the other team. And Lance? Lance just wanted to go home to nurse his wounded heart, hurting from the confusing feeling of happiness that started spreading inside him after that second round in which both of them, Keith and Lance, built what Shiro called  _ the nerdiest crap they have ever built _ —even if they won that round thanks to that crap.

Retiring to lean against the wall, Lance crosses his arms and watches his friends talking to the referee, who is giving Shiro the price (an envelope with $200 to share between the six of them and a bunch of discount coupons) for winning this lame tournament. They are all so happy, smiling at Pidge's comments as she surveys the coupons; as stupid as this competition is, Lance's here for these moments, for the meetings every Sunday, for the late nights of practice with unhealthy snacks and breathless laughs until two in the morning, for the feeling of belonging in a place so far from home.

“Lance! Look! A discount for the IHOP! You can finally bring your date somewhere fancy,” Pidge chirps, showing him one of the coupons as the team is gathering around her to inspect the price.

“Hey! Are you saying that my dates are lame?” Lance asks with offended tone, touching his chest dramatically.

“Pretty much, yeah,” Pidge laughs, handing him the piece of paper.

“That's because you have never been on a date with me, Pidge. My dates are legendary. My dates blow minds and make hearts melt.” Lance retorts, putting the discount inside his wallet.

“Ew, no thanks.” Pidge says, pulling a face.

“I wouldn't reject a date with Lance, though,” Hunk says to Pidge, snatching the coupons from her hands to take a closer look at them. “He took me on a date on our first year here and I have to say that it was pretty amazing.”

“See?” Lance exclaims happily.

“You two went on a date?” Pidge asks raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Well, no. My girlfriend dumped me the day before Valentine’s and Lance just wanted to cheer me up,” Hunk explains with a grin. “Lucky me Shay was our waitress that night.”

“Aww, so it really was a date!” Shay says, hugging Hunk’s arm and giggling. “You were all lovey dovey, back then…”

“No we weren't!” Lance complains.

“Ah, yeah, I remember that day.” Shiro joins the conversation as he gestures them to start grabbing their laptops to leave the classroom. “And I remember how nervous you were and how you called it a ‘date’,” Shiro adds with a playful smile.

“Wha— No! No, no,” Lance says a little too high while closing his laptop a little to forcefully. “I called it a  _ brodate _ . Not a date  _ date _ .”

“Why the flowers, then?” Shiro asks, huffing a laugh as they all wave their hands to say goodbye to the team they played against and the referee who is still gathering his things to leave the classroom.

“I- wha- it was Keith's idea!” Lance turns away, scanning the group for Keith and discovers the other boy standing in front of his still open laptop on the table, his face is angry red, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, biting his lower lip distractedly. If they weren't inside the classroom, surrounded by friends and strangers, Lance would think that he was trying to take a huge dump; you can't pull such a constipated face without trying to expulse something bigger than your head out of your body. The second Keith listens to his name being called, his eyes dart towards Lance and his expression changes from constipated to surprised to angry so fast that Lance is not sure if missed something in between. There seems to be a storm behind Keith's eyes, focused on his persona with such intensity he can feel it physically crawling on his skin. His eyes seem like he's looking through Lance, looking directly to Lance’s core and setting it on fire.

“Keith?” Shiro's concerned voice asks from behind.

It's shocking the way Keith slams his laptop shut; Lance knows how much he loved it when Shiro gave it to him last Christmas and how much effort he put on choosing all the stickers that are covering it. Lance frowns because he can tell something is wrong, it must be for Keith acting angrier and moodier than normal. He's going to ask what's wrong when the other boy yells from the same spot where he's been standing:

“I’LL DO IT!”

What? Confused as fuck, Lance turns to look at the others, looking for an explanation, because,  _ what the hell is happening? _

“No, Keith, no,” Shiro says sternly, pushing Lance aside to walk towards his little brother, who ignores him completely, eyes still glued to Lance.

“What?” Lance squeaks.

“I'll call you later,” Keith just says, finally putting away his laptop inside his messenger bag and walking out the room in front of his disconcerted friends. Shiro follows him, whispering angry words to his brother.

“What the hell just happened?” Pidge asks, looking at Lance with her eyebrows almost touching her hairline.

“What did you do to break Keith that way, Lance?” Shay shoots him a concern but amused look.

“I didn't do anything!” Lance snaps defensively.

“Well, he was definitely talking to you when he said that,” Pidge states as she starts leaving the classroom. Hunk and Shay starts following, nodding with their heads when a voice calls them.

“Wait! Aren't you the kid from that Facebook post?” The silver haired girl from the other team asks, approaching them from behind. “Sorry, I just wanted to say congratulations on your engagement, you two make a cute couple.”

“Oh god,” Lance whines completely mortified.

Hunk and Pidge burst into laughter, holding their stomachs with their hands, while Shay pushes them out of the room biting her lips trying to contain a smile.

“Oh, sorry, aren't you Lance Sánchez? My mistake! I heard your friends calling you… my deepest apologies!” The girl, completely red in her tanned face, clenches a fist on her powder pink sweater, making Lance's face flush pink as well. Damn, she's cute.

“No, it's okay…” Lance's mind decides to catch up that right moment, realisation hitting him like a baseball bat directly to his head. “Holy shit,” he whispers.

“What?” The girl looks at him confused.

“HOLY SHIT!” Lance exclaims louder, lifting the hand that isn't holding his laptop to his hair to grab it. “Oh my god, I'm gonna have sex with Keith,” he adds with a lost look in his eyes.

“Yes… uhh...I'm… going to… go…” The girl says a little scared as she takes a step back.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Lance swears, ignoring the girl who's running away from him, “la madre que me parió, pero dónde me he metido.”

Exiting the room like a suffering soul leaving the world of the living, Lance keeps swearing in spanglish, a wobbly grin never leaving his face.


	5. The broken promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is dumb and Keith is not making things easy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost count at the number of poop jokes I made today. I'm gross. This fic is gross and awkward, but I already warned you guys about this.
> 
>  
> 
> [I made art for this shit too :D](http://ainudraws.tumblr.com/post/164691978261/this-is-for-this-cool-fic-that-im-writing-it-is)
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I made a Spotify playlist. [Here's the link in case you want to check it out :3](https://open.spotify.com/user/1168138686/playlist/3UYtGvh4HvyWOKiFbcMfRd?si=qkTtVNoU)
> 
> Thanks Mari, you're the raccoon to my garbage.

There is no one waiting for him outside the building when he kicks the door open and runs through it. Not even Hunk, who's literally (not really) his soulmate, his Best Bud For Life, his sidekick, the other half of his half tangerine (or was it an orange? Never mind). Pouting and humming a sad song to feed the drama, Lance walks to his dorm, dragging his sneakers on the pavement. He could take the bus home, but once again the warmth of the spring sun calls him. His mood changes a little when he remembers Keith's last words and face before storming out of the classroom.

Is it possible that Keith was joking? Lance can tell by the way his lips were pressed together and his hands balled into tight fists that he wasn't; Keith doesn't know how to make a joke anyway. Fishing his phone from his pocket, Lance checks for missed calls or messages. Nothing. When Keith said ‘later’ he wouldn't mean like, ten minutes later, right? Of course not, Lance is just being paranoid, more than usual. And anxious. Really anxious because he's going to have sex with a friend, a friend that turns out to be another boy, a friend who wasn't a friend in his eyes until said friend accusatorily pointed out that they, indeed, were friends, a friend he might or might not have a crush on (definitely not, Lance is just curious, not crushing, pfff… he is).

Lance shrieks in frustration, pulling his hair and scaring a pair of pigeons near him.

To be honest, Lance doesn't know what is going to happen, what Keith is going to tell him, what Keith is going to do to him, what is he going to do to Keith. Of course he knows how gay sex works, kind of. However, it’s one thing to read about it, to watch a video hiding under the blankets, completely out of curiosity, to listen to someone talk about it, and another completely different thing is to actually do it. All his experience is based on what he has done with girls; his first time was a total disaster, no, scratch that. It was a horrible experience that ended up with Tanya laughing at him while his father hit him with a tightly rolled newspaper like he was some kind of dog. Besides his lack of experience and his over excitement, it was a mistake inviting her over without checking if they were going to have the level of intimacy required for such activities. Not locking the door was a mistake too, yes.

Since that disastrous first time things began to go better. He learned some things after the obligatory sex talk his father put him through, though Lance practically died of embarrassment, he got some cool advice that, even now, he's grateful for.

He particularly remember that one time with that girl (what was her name? Lance can't remember) from the band in their last year of high school in the back of the old Toyota his brother gave him after leaving for college. Who doesn't remember their first blowjob? He smiled like an idiot for days.

Or that time with Sheila in the elevator, god, it was awesome, a little tight, but the mirror was definitely a plus.

Generally, when Lance has sex, all he looks for is that feeling of closeness that usually comes with that level of intimacy, for that connection that can make your heart swell and explode into a million happy smiles and that can make your whole world find its true meaning. Your other half. Your place in the world. The cauldron full of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Sadly, Lance is still poor as a rat.

Lance has experienced meaningless sex, awkward sex, satisfactory sex, horrible sex, funny sex… But, in the end, as much experience he has with pussy, he's completely lost when it comes to a dick versus dick match.

And this is Keith. A boy. Not a girl. And even though they both are the same species, he feels like they are complete aliens regarding sex. Lance curses himself for not having paid enough attention to Keith's body before. Because, what can Lance possibly do with those well defined arms and that toned back full of lithe muscle under pale and soft looking skin that Keith likes to hide except when they casually end up showering at the same time at the gym or when they went swimming last––

“Lance?” A voice calls him pulling him out of the map of Keith’s body he was lost in. “Hey.”

Jogging, Nyma approaches him from behind, lifting a hand to ask him to wait.

Completely dumbfounded, Lance flinches pathetically, expecting another hit from the girl who punched away as much dignity as the realization she brought into his life just a few days ago.

“H-hey,” Lance greets back when it's clear that she's not going to hit him.

“God, you walk fast…” She pants as she bends over trying to catch her breath. “I wanted to apologise. For the other day, you know?” Lance looks at her, tilting his head, confused. “The slap?” She clarifies. “I shouldn't have done that, I was very drunk.”

“Oh, no, it was my fault. I think? I can't remember very well, I was smashed too,” Lance chuckles apologetically.

“Yeah, I know, and I took advantage of it, but… it's just… I got jealous when I saw you with that guy and—”

“What? Who?” Lance asks stunned.

“That boy with the weird hair? The frowny one with the badass attitude. Kevin? Kyle? Quiche?” She tries to remember tapping her chin.

“Ah! Keith! Yes, but… what?” Lance is more confused than before. “Jealous? Why?”

“Well, I heard him the Friday before the party talking with Jonas about the Statistical Physics paper and, I don't like to eavesdrop, but Jonas asked Kirk—”

“Keith.”

“—Keith, yes, that. Well, Jonas asked him out and he rejected him because he already has someone he likes,” Nyma rambles as she plays with a strand of her blonde hair, “and after seeing how he was talking to you and touching you at the party…” She flutters her eyelashes innocently at Lance, cocking her head and making her soft hair swing over her shoulder.

“Wait, what?” Lance asks suddenly, his eyes about to pop out of their sockets, grabbing the girl in front of him by the shoulders.

Nyma, completely taken by surprise, yelps in shock as she drops the flirty demeanour she was attacking Lance with and stutters, “Y-yeah, after the party, well, I- I thought that the person he was interested in was y—”

“Nyma!” Lance interrupts, sweaty hands tightening around the girl’s shoulders. “This is important.” Lance’s intense gaze makes Nyma’s words die on her lips. “What. Paper.”

“Uh?” She murmurs, raising one of her eyebrows.

“The paper, Nyma. THE PAPER. WHAT PAPER?” Lance asks frantically, shaking the poor confused girl by the shoulders and making her head bob back and forth.

“What? I don't know… some paper for professor Haggar’s class? I'm not taking that class,” she answers slowly.

“MIERDA!” Lance exclaims before turning around and leaving a prettified Nyma with her jaw hanging open.

“Okay, call me…” she says while Lance’s figure becomes tinier and tinier on the horizon.

 

* * *

 

It is a true fact, a fact already checked and suffered by Lance's family during all his school years, that the closer a due date is, the better Lance's mind focuses. Fed by the last minute panic, his brain is capable of working faster than one of those dumb planes Keith likes so much. That's why, the moment that the possibility of not passing Haggar’s class appears, Lance's well known chaotic brain enters panic mode, shutting down everything not related to the matter in question around him.

As soon as Lance arrives at his room, he speeds towards his desk, throwing his phone and wallet carelessly on the bed and opening his laptop to the beat of his brain chanting shitshitshitshit. His fingers start moving at the speed of light over the keyboard, his tongue starting to poke out, his body curling unwittingly forward.

Fucking Haggar and fucking statistical physics, with her dumb old face and her dumb macrostate. But, as his mom always says, just because you hate a class doesn't mean you have to fail it. Also, Lance isn't a quitter. Nuh uh. He may be a little silly, impulsive as hell, pretty slovenly and the most forgetful person on earth, but he is no quitter. And even though it was Hunk’s idea to take this class —Hunk really loves Haggar’s class— Lance is going to take it to the end. Or at least until Haggar gets tired of him falling asleep in the middle of a lecture. Whatever happens first.

Leaning to the right with his legs crossed on the spinning chair, Lance opens the third drawer of the desk and takes out a thick yellow folder with a copy of all of Hunk’s notes inside. Lance cracks his fingers, stretching his arms forward.

Now he's ready.

After what feels like days, weeks, months of suffering, Lance closes his laptop, sighing, completely exhausted, as a knock sounds at the door. He blinks sleepily once, twice, and then rushes to the door, scattering the mess of papers on the desk with his clumsy attempts at untangling his legs from under his body. When he reaches the door and opens it, there is no one standing there. Did he imagine it or…

“Who the hell…” He mutters under his breath, looking to the left and right of the deserted hallway. Only when he's about to close the door, something next to his feet catches his eye. It's a brown paper bag with a note stapled to it. Tilting his head, Lance grabs the bag and goes back to his room, though, thinking about it, he shouldn't be picking up random packages left anonymously in front of his door.

With just a glimpse at the note, a soft smile appears on Lance’s face. He sits on the bed and opens the bag as he reads it.

“You forgot our lunch date and you're not answering your phone. Pidge told me that you probably forgot Professor Haggar’s paper for tomorrow so I made you some chicken sandwiches. I know how you get when this happens. Love, Hunk”

“Oh,” Lance says, reaching for his phone. Three missed calls and two messages from Hunk; the first one begging for him not to be dead and the second one saying that Pidge calmed him down and that he was making him some sandwiches for later. Smiling and chewing at the same time, he makes a promise to himself to buy lunch for Hunk the next day. Whatever he wants, even that disgusting eggplant taco he likes so much. Anything for his friend.

Absentmindedly, Lance takes another bite of the sandwich and, with his other hand, keeps checking his phone. It's late, already past midnight, he's starving and sleepy, but the next two notifications make it all go away. A missed call from Keith and a brief text.

Lance chokes on the piece of delicious roasted chicken in his mouth. What a waste.

>>“Pick up your phone, idiot, I told you I would call you. Anyway. Tomorrow 11pm. Usual table outside the library.”

For a second, the phone, the sandwich, the whole room disappears, leaving Lance alone in the universe with the crazy thumping of his heart because, what the fuck. Does this message mean that Keith wants to fuck on a filthy, half broken, picnic table? Outside? Hell no. He's definitely not going to do that again. Nope. He's not getting his ass stung by a wasp again, thank you very much.

In the end, he goes to bed right after finishing Hunk’s sandwiches and thinking about whether Keith would accept doing it on the picnic table fully clothed and with a mosquito net within arm’s reach.

* * *

 

“Guess who turned in a paper this morning, and earned the first —and I guess last— approving nod from Professor Haggar?” Lance practically yells as he approaches their usual table in the packed cafeteria where Pidge and Hunk are already sitting.

“Oh! Good job, Lance!” Hunk yells back, watching his friend make a beeline to the table and stop next to them with a proud grin on his face.

“Well, yeah! It was a nice job, considering it was a last minute paper,” Lance says, proud grin transforming into a devilish one as he eyes Pidge. “I think this deserves—”

“Oh, god, not again.” Pidge buries her face in her arms.

“––the traditional Dance of Victory!” Lance exclaims, throwing his arms into the air and starting to dance around the table, humming a song matching his uncoordinated movements.

Pidge groans loudly into her arms and says, irritated “ugh, tell me when he stops.” To which Hunk answers by patting her head and chewing his lunch as he watching Lance ridicule himself in front of bunch of strangers and two of his closest friends. Again.

The embarrassing dance only ends when Lance bumps into a girl trying to get to a table to eat her lunch, sending the tray to the floor and making the room burst into laughter.

“You can look now,” Hunk says to Pidge, who lifts her head in time to see Lance handing the poor girl a couple of bills from his wallet, both completely red in the face; one in embarrassment, the other in anger.

“So, what's up?” Lance says sitting at the table like nothing had happened. Pidge shakes her head in disbelief and keeps eating her lunch as Hunk grins at his friend.

“Pidge has a crush!” Hunk cheers happily with his mouth full of food.

“Hunk!!” Pidge complains, pale face turning into a bright shade of red.

“What, what??” Lance exclaims, slamming his hands on the table. “You have a crush on someone and I'm not the first person to know? I thought we were friends, Pidge. You know you can come to me for advice. I'm the date master, after all,” he says, like he can’t believe Pidge.

“I don't have a crush, okay? Crushes are dumb, crushes are for the weak,” the girl retorts with a frown. “What I was telling Hunk is that yesterday I noticed that girl with the silver hair we played against ogling Shiro, and that I think that they would be a cute couple!” She exclaims with emphasis, gesturing wildly around with her arms.

Trying to hide a smile, Lance eyes them both without saying a word.

“Oh, right. My mistake,” Hunk says shyly.

“How could you… how even…” Pidge stutters with disbelief.

“I don't know! I thought, with Lance getting married to Keith,” Hunk says, ignoring the indignant yelp from Lance, “you, crushing on someone, wouldn't be that weird.”

“My love is for the machines.” Pidge closes her eyes and brings her right hand to her heart. “And the internet.”

“You don't know what you’re missing. I mean, kisses? Hugs? Cuddles? Kissing with tongue and se––” Lance manages to say before getting interrupted.

“Okay okay! I get it!” Pidge says exasperated. “And the only thing I can say to that is EW.”

“He has a point…” Hunk chimes in.

“You know? Fuck you two. I'm going to tell Matt and he's going to strangle you in your sleep— HEY! Buy your own lunch, Sánchez!” She yells when Lance steals one of her tuna sandwiches.

“Mmmh… Tuna!” Lance moans between bites. “Oh! This reminds me… Thanks for the package, man!” He adds, looking at Hunk fondly.

“Did you eat the sandwiches?”

“You're a lifesaver, buddy. They were so gooood,” Lance moans, leaning forward. “This one is shit compared to one of yours.” He smiles at Pidge’s murderous look.

“I knew you forgot the paper.” Hunk chuckles. “I was going to offer some help yesterday after the match but right when we left the building, Shiro and— Ouch!” Pidge interrupts Hunk elbowing him in the ribs without mercy, shooting him a look that can only translate as ‘keep talking and you're dead’.

“What?” Lance asks confused, looking at the mysterious exchange of looks. “Did something happen to Shiro?” He starts worrying after a few seconds of silence, in which Pidge and Hunk seem to have a whole mental conversation.

“No, everything is fine. Nothing happened,” Pidge says, smiling with too many teeth to be authentic. “Right, Hunk?” She elbows the boy sitting beside her, gently this time.

“YEAH, HAHA!” He answers, definitely too loud. Lance raises an eyebrow — really?— and Hunk clears his throat before breaking eye contact and focusing on the cold remains of his lunch. “Yes, no one was fighting or yelling! And we absolutely didn't run away! We just—” Pidge groans and slaps her hand on her face. “—had to go somewhere else really fast,” Hunk finishes with his eyes wide and looking at Lance again, who isn't buying any of the crap Pidge is trying to sell him.

“What is going on?” Suspicious, Lance tilts his head.

A sigh leaves Hunk’s lips. “Sorry, Pidge,” he apologises.

“It's okay, big guy.” Pidge knows that Hunk doesn't know how to lie to Lance. To Pidge? He can do. To Shiro? Well, that surprise party was a success thanks to him. To Keith? Please, he still doesn't know it was Hunk who left the window of Keith's room open the day that raccoon snuck inside and ate his fingerless gloves and pooped on his pillow. Pidge should have known that it's mission impossible for Hunk to hide something from Lance. “You can tell him,” she says defeated.

With a worried look, Lance leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of him protectively. He doesn't like the sound of this, he feels like he's in trouble and he's waiting for his mom to come back from work to be scolded and grounded for the rest of the eternity.

“We… kinda…” Hunk starts tentatively. “We overheard Shiro and Keith fighting yesterday. Like, seriously fighting.”

“Yeah, and your name came up more than a couple of times,” Pidge adds.

“Fighting?” Lance asks, confused. Shiro and Keith never fight. Never. They have the kind of disgustingly good sibling relationship that everyone hates but secretly wishes to have with their own family.

“Yeah, they were right in front of the doors, yelling at each other about...” Pidge explains. Quickly, she exchanges another worried look with Hunk before continuing. “Well, about you.”

“What? Me? I did nothing! That dick rocket wasn't my fault!” Lance exclaims, throwing his arms into the air.

“It wasn't about that,” Hunk says calmly. He stays silent for a couple of seconds, like he doesn't know how to continue.

“It was about you wanting to do gross stuff to Keith,” Pidge clarifies, though it doesn't seem to work, so she explains again, “about you boning Keith?”

“Oh… OH!” Lance finally understands and turns completely red. “Uh, yeah, that, ha… yes, about that…” Lance doesn't know where to look, suddenly wanting to hide again because, fuck, they weren’t supposed to find out and now Lance wants to die of embarrassment; not that he feels that ashamed, but he was hoping to not have to deal with explaining to everyone that he's having some kind of existential crisis here. “What were they saying about that?” He asks with precaution after clearing his throat.

“What the hell, man!” Pidge exclaims at the same time that Hunk asks, “Holy crow, why aren't you denying it?”

Somehow, the shocked faces of his friends, for the first time, make Lance think that maybe all this, him asking Keith to dance the horizontal mambo with him, is a bad thing. Like he's doing something wrong.

“I…” Lance starts, not knowing what to say or how to explain himself. “There might be a tiny little microscopic possibility that…”

“Look man, don't get me wrong, I don't care what side of the road you walk on, or even if you like to walk in the middle, god, I love you the same, but you can’t…” Pidge says frustrated.

“Breathe, Pidge,” Hunk encourages her.

“It was scary, seeing them fight like that. I’ve never seen them fight, like, not even when Shiro had to pick up Keith up from the police station for that fight. Shiro telling Keith that he's out of his mind for accepting and Keith yelling back to mind his goddamn business, was weird. Bad weird,” she says, twisting her lips.

“It wasn't my intention to make them fight,” Lance says, gloomily looking at his hands.

“Hey,” Hunk says, reaching for Lance’s shoulder over the table, “we aren't mad, buddy, just surprised.” He sends a pointed look at Pidge and gestures with his head into Lance’s direction.

“Yeah! We're not mad, Lance,” Pidge rushes to assure him. “You know you can talk to us about everything, right?” Nodding, Lance bites his lower lip and lifts his gaze to look at his friends. “But, if you like boys— sorry, sorry— if you think that maybe there could be a tiny little microscopic possibility that you might like boys, you shouldn't get Keith involved. You should figure it out on your own,” Pidge says.

“I did know you like guys, though.” Hunk says casually.

“What?” Pidge exclaims flabbergasted.

“Well, you weren't there the day Shiro introduced us, but he said, and i quote ‘I’d lick him’,” Hunk explains, shrugging.

“No, no, no. I didn't mean it that way!”

“Yes, you did.” Hunk smirks.

“I was just hungry, okay. It was my first day of college and I was nervous and I didn't eat anything the night before…” Lance remembers that day like it happened yesterday. It was a really hot day and Shiro had been wearing a tank top, showing his well defined arms and suddenly, Lance just felt like licking something. He was hungry, okay? Okay, maybe not hungry for food though.

“Oh ho ho,” Pidge mocks with a mischievous grin, “so our Lancey is hungry for other things than chicks.”

“But that's the thing, I don't like guys. I don't think so? I just kinda like Keith.” Lance hides his faces in his hands a whines. “And maybe it's because I like guys, or it could be just a Keith thing… I need to find out before it drives me crazy.”

“Then talk to him. Just… talk.” Pidge looks at him intensely for a few seconds. “But don't mess with him.”

“Ugh. UGH. I know,” Lance whines again with his face still hidden.

Thankfully, Lance still have several hours before he has to meet Keith to think of what to say to him.

 

* * *

 

Between classes, homework, and a really boring and exhausting meeting for a group project, Lance hasn't had much time to think about his “date” with Keith later in the night until he drops the dead weight of his body on his bed, long limbs bouncing on the cheap mattress a couple of times before settling down.

“Ugh,” he groans into the pillow before dragging his hand in front of him, looking at his palm, just checking if he's forgetting something before going for a snack at the vending machine in the lobby.

Seeing that he still has half an hour, Lance lifts himself from the bed, not without some difficulty, and fishes his wallet from his backpack to buy some delicious dinner from downstairs.

What is he going to say to Keith? He has no idea. He knows he promised Pidge, but he's completely lost. Does he really want to be that intimate with his friend? Well, it wouldn't be a bad experience, in his opinion. It's not like he's asking a complete random stranger in a ratty bar at the side of a lonely road in the middle of the desert. That would definitely be a bad idea. If Keith didn’t want to do it he would have refused… right?

Lance punches the buttons of the machine more forcefully than necessary, gaining a weird look from the sleep deprived looking girl waiting in line behind him. He stops for a second, looking at the contents of the vending machine.

“Are you done?” The girl behind him asks tiredly.

“Yeah, just a second.” He doesn't bother to look at her as he counts the coins in his hands before sliding them through the aperture.

With his arms full of bags of potato chips and candy bars, and thankful for wearing a warm hoodie in the chilly Spring night, Lance runs to the meeting point, eyeing the almost empty street. It's already dark and there are some broken lampposts, leaving dark patches on the sidewalk Lance isn't very grateful for. Warily, and looking from side to side, he reaches the empty table and breathes deeply, dropping all the snacks on the dirty table.

“Did you think this was a picnic or what?” Lance yelps, startled by the sudden voice near his ear. “What is this for?”

“Keith! God!” Lance clutches the front of his hoodie, frowning at his almost murderer. “Were you trying to kill me?”

The other boy sits on the wooden bench and starts examining the snacks. “Chocolate. Nice,” he murmurs. Some of the nearby lampposts are blocked by the huge trees surrounding the dining area so that the light around them is so dim Lance can barely distinguish Keith’s face as he starts eating one of the candy bars.

“Is this your idea of a romantic dinner before banging someone?” Keith asks with his mouth full. “Because it sucks.”

“I was trying to be nice, jerk,” Lance snaps while taking a seat and unwrapping one of the caramel and chocolate bars. “Why are you wearing all black?” Lance snickers, “did you think this was a robbery or what?” Lance’s imitation comes out more high pitched than intended, and it doesn't sound like Keith's voice at all.

Keith makes a mocking sound before replying, “I had to sneak out of the house,” without adding more information.

Lance winces, but doesn't say anything, not wanting to force Keith to talk if he doesn’t want to say anything about the fight with his brother.

They fall into a comfortable silence, munching candy peacefully. As the seconds tick by, Lance’s vision becomes clearer. Now he can see Keith's pale face contrasting against the dark fabric of his jacket. It's nice, Lance realizes, being able to be like this with someone without feeling awkward at all. Keith is drumming his fingers on the table distractedly, licking the chocolate off of his other hand; one finger after another, Keith puts them into his mouth almost to the knuckle, dragging them out slowly just to lick them again with his tongue several times before starting again with the next. With his mouth open and eyes glued to Keith, Lance opens a bag of potato chips with so much force that he sends half the contents flying around, scattering them on the table and making Keith chuckle.

Fuck it. Sorry Pidge.

“So how are we going to do this?” Keith asks, picking up a chip from Lance’s half empty bag with two still wet fingers.

“Uh mmh… horizontally?” Lance says as he makes a flat gesture with both hands over the table.

“I mean,” Keith sighs, rolling his eyes, “where do you want to do it, when, how... Have you even thought about this at all?”

“Yeah! I have this all planned out!” Lance lies.

“Do you even know how to…?”

“Pff, of course I know, Keith, I'm not stupid,” Lance scoffs, looking away.

“So, if you take me, right now, back to your dorm,” Keith asks, squinting as he crosses his arms and leans over the picnic table, “take off all my clothes and lay me down on your bed… would you make me come as hard as you brag you can make the ladies come? Are you saying you're ready for that?”

Lance swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry as the desert that his knowledge about gay sex is.

“Yeah, I don't think so.” Keith smirks.

“S-so what?” Lance sputters, embarrassed. “It's just a different hole, that's all!”

“Oh god, Lance!” Keith burst into laughter. “That's not it, at all. You're such a dumbass… Do you really think that gay sex is just sticking a dick into a butt?”

Lance feels his cheeks burn and his mouth turn into a thin line. Okay, Lance isn't an expert in gay sex. He's not gay, for fuck’s sake, he doesn't need to know about that stuff! If anything it's Keith who should be embarrassed for being a crappy teacher for laughing at him instead of showing him how it's done.

“Then show me,” Lance says low and quickly.

And then Keith’s laughter dies, his gaze on Lance is so intense he can feel it like a heavy weight at the bottom of his stomach, making him want to run away and crawl under his bed like a scared animal about to be eaten by a lion. Lance swallows the knot in his throat nervously, his blue eyes never leaving Keith's.

“Why?” Keith finally asks, squinting.

Caught off guard, Lance opens and closes his mouth several times like a dumb fish out of the dumb water, because, to be honest, he has never stopped to think why he wants to do this, even less, why he wants to do this with Keith.

Because you're beautiful, he could say. Because you drum your fingers on the table so often I like to guess the song you're playing every time, because you like to play with your earring when you're nervous and it makes me want to bite it, because you look at me when you're bored like you expect me to do something about it and I always want to do something about it. Because you get me, because you're the one to made me see that we're friends, that we have been friends for a long time without me realising ––when the hell did this happen? Or he could tell Keith it's because he trusts him, because if he starts thinking too much about this situation he would freak out so much he would scream and cry and probably pull at his hair so hard that he will go bald in less than two seconds, and the last thing he needs right now, with the classes he needs to pass, with all the shit that happened with Toni… Because he feels he can have this crisis if Keith is there to help him through it. He may be an immature, an irresponsible, and a careless clown. But he's not stupid. He's not stupid and he knows what’s going on. He knows the consequences of this and he doesn't care because he's tired of everything and he wants the freedom to be himself.

But Lance isn't that good with words. Words that really matter, that is. Because Lance is good at talking shit and babbling incessantly, at charming a girl into having a date with him, but he fails miserably when things turn serious and feelings can be hurt.

Suddenly he feels like puking.

This is why he just says, “you're the only gay guy I know...”

Good job, Lance.

“Okay, I'm leaving,”

“No, no, no, wait!” Lance gets up to follow Keith and they only make it a few steps away from the table before Lance, desperately, grabs Keith's hand, stopping him abruptly. “I'm sorry. I…” Lance is at a loss of words. How does he explain to his friend that he's scared and doesn't know how to deal with it? How does he tell his rival and friend that he needs his help desperately? “I thought that maybe you could help me.” He must sound desperate enough because Keith’s expression softens and a thoughtful look replaces the angry one. For a second Lance thinks that Keith is going to leave, but then he realizes that he's still holding the other boy’s hand and rushes to drop it. “You don't have to do it if you don't want to. But I––”

“I do. I want to. It's just…” Keith hesitates before gesturing with his head towards the picnic table, where they sit again. Side by side this time. Keith’s figure feels warm pressed against his shoulder, and, in the cold, dark night, Lance wishes they could be even closer. After a few seconds, Keith breaks the silence with a faltering voice and avoiding eye contact, “have I ever told you how I knew I was gay?”

“No,” Lance says softly. Even though they met a long ago, he doesn't know much about Keith. He knows about his dead parents, about his love for speed and his aversion for rules, but they've never shared many moments of friendly intimacy like this one thanks to the fact that Lance has always been more inclined towards their rivalry than their friendship.

“I was seventeen when I met this guy… Our parents had died a couple of months ago and Shiro signed me up for kickboxing classes; he thought I needed to blow some steam off before I got myself kicked out of school. That was where I met him,” Keith starts.

“Yeah,” Lance says, frowning sadly because he can clearly see an angry young Keith getting into trouble and a worried Shiro trying to keep his brother from throwing away his future.

“Before that I had never been interested in relationships or girls or boys, you know? That's why I didn't understand what I felt for this boy at first. For me, I was just a straight boy without any interest in love.” Keith shrugs, risking a side glance at Lance before continuing. “He must have felt the same because when we kissed the first time he looked as lost as myself. We had a good time together, we were really good friends, and adding the kissing was like finding what our relationship was missing. It didn't take long until he was talking about sex, and I just went with it because I liked him enough to want to try it with him too.”

“But that's good, right? You did it with someone you liked.”

“Yeah, I liked him. But I guess he didn't like me as much.”

“Oh?”

“I didn't know anything about gay sex, Lance, and neither did he. That was my first mistake; It went awful because all the previous experiences he had before were with girls, and you can laugh all you want, but anal sex is no joke, Lance.” Keith’s tone is serious and something in his words hit Lance hard.

“Did… Did it hurt?” Lance asks tentatively. He blinks several times, looking at Keith's profile, lightened by the the yellow glow of a distant lamppost. His eyes are almost invisible, but Lance can see the sad shine of a bad memory in them. And it hurts; the weight of his conscience hurts like a hammer of guilt striking his heart with full force. Because he, Lance, thoughtlessly, pretended to do the same to him, not taking this seriously, even though he was the one who asked for it.

“Yeah,” Keith breathes after a moment, “but what hurt more was that he left saying that he wasn't sure he was gay after all.” The boy’s jaw clenches tightly in a grimace of disgust.

Cautiously, Lance lifts his hand and touches Keith's shoulder a little awkwardly, rubbing his thumb over the fabric of the hoodie. He opens his mouth to say something but Keith shakes his head and turns towards him, showing a mischievous grin.

“So, if you really wanna do this, you will follow my orders,” Keith says with joy, like he didn’t just show Lance a piece of his naked soul or something.

“What? No way.” A part in Lance still doesn't want to lose against Keith. Following Keith’s lead wasn't in Lance’s plans; not before, not now, not ever.

“Yes way! I'm not going to let you destroy my ass with your stupid straight ignorance to throw me away afterwards!” Keith's tone is playful, but his words make Lance’s chest hurt. He would never do that to Keith. He may look superficial, but he likes to think that he also has a ‘decent guy’ kind of vibe around him too. But, bottoming for Keith? Really? It never crossed his mind; his butt is an exit, not and entrance, thank you very much. Lance looks at Keith's determined face and, for a second, tries to see thing from his side: a ––insert several quotes here–– straight guy who usually treats him like shit (okay, Lance is willing to admit that he's not super nice to Keith all the time), asks him to let him use his butt to test his heterosexuality out of the blue while taking a piss, given the fact that he already had a horrible experience with a guy playing gay with him.

Holy shit, Lance is an asshole.

“Okay, okay.” Lance says slowly, trying to calm himself. “So if , air quotes, I do this bottom thing––”

“You aren't supposed to say the…” Keith tries to explain.

“––with you, you have to promise to not tell anyone. Also, does it hurt? Because my pain tolerance is really low. Do you have lube? I don't have any, but I guess I could buy some––”

“Hey, slow down.” Keith raises an eyebrow.

“–– and what about poo? You know people use their butts to poop, right?”

“Lance! God, gross.” Keith grimaces in disgust.

“I once saw a video in which––” Lance starts just to be shut up immediately.

“No! No, I don't wanna know. Shut up!” Keith slaps his hands over Lance’s mouth before he can say anything else. When he is sure that Lance has calmed down enough, he takes his hand away. “If you shut your mouth right now, I will tell you what to do, so, I beg you, stop talking about shit while we’re talking about anal sex.” Lance nods with his lips pressed together and makes a zipping gesture over them. “Good. Now. I’ll send you an email when I get home, okay? Read it and if you have any questions you can text me.”

“I promise I won't ask about poop,” Lance swears solemnly as he raises his right hand.

Snorting, Keith turns to fully look at him. And if Lance didn’t know Keith, he would say that he's looking at him fondly. Weird.

“What about tomorrow? I'm free after 2 pm,” Keith says as he stands and picks the rest of chocolates up and puts them in his pockets.

“Let me check my schedule.” Lance raises his hand to look at the words smeared on his sweaty palm. “All clear,” he confirms with a grin.

“Okay, I’ll meet you at your place at 4 pm. Read the link and follow every step.” Keith starts walking away, raising his voice as the distance between the two boys becomes larger. “I mean it, Lance. Do what the website says if you don't want it to be a disaster!”

“But why does it have to be in my room? The walls are paper thin! I don't want everyone to know… Ugh,” Lance whines, seeing Keith walk away waving his hand without looking back and without answering. “Great. Everyone will make fun of me. Again.”

After throwing away the wrappers, Lance heads to his room again, trying to think of how to make everyone in his building leave for a couple of hours without having to pay them for it.

 

 


End file.
